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"AUNT   RUTH,"   THE   OLD   MAID. 


OF 


AN    OLD    MAID. 


BY    AUNT    RUTH. 

BELLE   C.   GREENE, 
Author   of    "A     New    England    Conscience? 


Dedicated  in  grateful  acknowledgment  to  my  first  literary  friend, 
through  whose  kind  encouragement  these  sketches  were  written. 

THE  AUTHOR. 


J.    S.    OGILVIE,  PUBLISHER. 
57  Rose  Street,  New  York  ;        Wabash  Avenue,  Chicag-o. 


F 


Ale 


CONTENTS. 


PAGI 

/fle  Old  Maid  goes  to  Boston  and  rides  with  the  Coal-Man 7 

The  Mind  Cure 15 

Her  Experience  in  Palmistry   25 

Poor  Aunt  Betsy 34 

She  finds  the  Coal-Man 41 

Writing  for  the  Newspapers 54 

She  goes  to  "  the  German". 63 

The  Story  of  "  Harnsome  Mariar" 69 

A  Hotel  Experience 80 

The  Newfangled  School 88 

She  goes  to  the  Dentist  99 

The  School  of  Philosophy 105 

The  Deacon's  Wife  Speaks 113 

Modern  Improvements 119 

Mutual  Life   Insurance 130 

High  Art  and  Esthetics I4t 

She  goes  West  in  the  Sleeping-Car— The  Punkin-Sifter  Man 156' 

In  Chicago -....-    168 


ADVENTURES   OF   AN   OLD   MAID. 


THE  OLD   MAID  GOES  TO  BOSTON   AND 
RIDES   WITH   THE   COAL-MAN. 

While  I  was  visitin'  my  niece,  she  that  was 
Araminty  Smith,  I  took  a  notion  I'd  go  to  Bos 
ton.  It  wa'n't  only  a  couple  of  hours'  ride  in  the 
cars,  and  I  had  some  shoppin'  I  wanted  to  dew. 
There  was  several  things  I  wanted  to  git ;  a  new 
cloak  for  one  thing.  You  see,  I'd  wore  my  cloak 
goin'  on  seven  year,  and  mother  'd  give  me  the 
money  a  purpose  to  buy  me  a  harnsome  one. 
Then  I  meant  to  git  some  little  presents  for  the 
children  ;  they  don't  keep  much  'sortment  in 
Crabtown. 

Wall,  I  didn't  meet  with  no  accidents  on  the 
way,  and  got  into  town  quite  early  in  the  fore 
noon. 

I  thought  I'd  buy  the  presents  for  the  children 
fust,  so  I  went  to  one  or  two  big  toy-shops,  where 
I  fooled  away  more  money  than  I  dare  to  tell  on  ; 
though  I  found  out  my  extravagance  wa'n't 
nothin'  compared  to  some  o'  them  rich  folks'es. 
They'd  hand  out  their  fifteen  or  twenty  dollars 
for  them  toy  things,  and  drive  away  in  their  ker- 
ridges  as  carm  as  you  please.  Lawful  rakes ! 
don't  it  seem  dowricfct  wicked  to  throw 


8  ADVENTURES  OF  AN   OLD  MAID. 

away  money  so,  when  lots  o'  folks  are    sufferin 
for  bread  to  eat  ! 

I  was  pretty  busy  till  long  after  my  usual  din 
ner  time,  and  I  begun  to  feel  tired  and  faint,  so  I 
looked  up  a  place  where  I  thought  I  could  git  a 
comfortable  meal  o'  vittles  and  went  in  and  set 

;O\vn.  As  long  as  I  didn't  come  to  Boston  every 
ay,  I  meant  to  have  a  nice  dinner  and  take  my 
time  eatin'  it,  so's  to  git  a  good  rest.  I  took  up 
the  book  on  the  table  that  tells  what  you  can 
have  and  how  much  to  pay  for  each  thing,  and 
begun  to  look  it  over. 

Pretty  soon  up  steps  a  tidy-lookin'  young  girl 
and  says  to  me, 

"What'll  you  have  to-day,  madam?"  says 
she. 

"Wall,  I  dunno,"  says  I,  smilin';  "  I  hain't  read 
tfie  book  through  yet,  and  hain't  made  up  my 
mind." 

She  says,  "To-day  is  Friday,  and  you  can  have 
any  kind  o'  fish — we  have  biled  dish,  too  ;  biled 
dish  twenty  cents,"  and  she  pinted  it  out  to  me 
on  the  book. 

"  Lawful  sakes  !"  says  I,  "  dew  tell  if  you  ha~,^ 
biled  dish  here  !     Ketch  me  eatin'  biled  dish   ,« 
Boston  !     I  can  git  plenty  o'  that  to  home  !"  <•.  •  r! 
I  laughed  well. 

She  laughed  too,  but  I  thought  I  wo  a::;",; 
hender  her  no  longer,  so  I  said, 

"  Wall,  now  you're  here,  I  might  as  wd!  set\> 
onto  somethin';  sposin'  I  have  a  "  ', harlot::-0 
Riisse  ?"  I  couldn't  pronounce  it,  but  I  phite.J 
it  out  to  her  ! 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  she,  "  but  what  else  T 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  9 

"Wall,"  said  I,  "that  depends  on  how  big  a 
"Charlotte  what-ye-may-call-it  is.  If  it's  as  big 
as  a  biled  dish,  I  shan't  want  much  of  anything  else, 
only  a  cup  o'  tea  or  so." 

"  But,  madam,"  said  she,  "  Charlotte  Roosh  is 
a  desert  dish — sort  of  a  cake — ye  know,  and 
ladies  generally  want  somethin'  else  fust  at  din- 
nc"" 

"  Is  that  so  ?"  said  I.  Wall,  then,  give  me  some 
Sobster  salud' — I  s'pose  that's  made  out  o' lob 
ster,  and  I'm  awful  fond  of  lobster;  and — wall,  I 
don't  see  it  on  the  book — but  can't  ye  give  me  a 
pertater,  and  a  slice  o'  cold  meat  to  go  with  it, 
for  substanshul,  ye  know  ?  Them  other  things 
I  want  ter  try,  jest  to  see  what  they  be.  Oh,  and 
give  me  a  good  strong  cup  o'  Young  Hyson, 
won't  ye  ?  That'll  rest  me  more'n  anything  else." 

She  seemed  like  a  real  good-natered  girl  ;  she 
went  off  smilin',  and  it  wa'n't  long  'fore  she  brought 
all  the  things,  and  they  was  nice  too,  though  I 
must  say  I  didn't  think  that  '  Charlotte  Roosh ' 
thing  was  any  great  shakes,  after  all.  Nothin'  in 
the  world  but  cake  with  custard  inside  on't. 

But,  on  the  whole,  I  had  a  good  dinner  and 
felt  the  better  for  't.  I  told  the  girl  where  I  lived 
when  I  was  to  home,  and  asked  her  to  call  and 
see  me  if  she  ever  come  my  way,  and  she  said  she 
would.  I  got  everything  I  meant  to  buy  before 
dinner,  all  but  my  cloak,  and  I  thought  I'd  go  to 
Holton  and  Maxey's  for  that.  They'd  jest  had 
their  store  all  repaired  over,  and  I  knew  it  would 
be  wuth  seein'. 

Wall,  I  went  in  and  looked  round  a  spell  down 
stairs,  then  I  asked  a  clerk  to  show  me  where  I 


IO  ADVENTURES  OF  AN   OLD  MAID. 

could  find  a  harnsome  cloak.  He  pinted  to  some 
stairs,  and  I  went  up  'em,  and  come  to  another 
floor  where  there  was  a  number  of  different 
rooms.  The  fust  was  a  bunnit  room,  and  I  got 
quite  interested  seein'  the  ladies  try  on  bunnits  ; 
sech  harnsome  ones  they  was  !  But  they  don't 
let  ye  alone  long  in  them  stores,  and  pretty  soon 
a  girl  comes  up  and  says  to  me,  "  Do  you  wish  to 
look  at  bunnits  ?" 

"  No,  I  don't,"  says  I.  "  I  want  to  buy  me  a 
cloak,  if  you've  got  any."  She  pinted  ahead  to 
another  room  and  I  passed  on.  That  room  was 
full  o'  dresses,  all  made.  Some  on  'em  was  stun- 
nin'  tew.  I  tell  ye  I  felt  kinder  out  o'  place  in  my 
clo'es ;  they  seemed  so  different,  somehow. 

Wall,  I  went  through  a  good  many  rooms  in 
this  way,  but  I  didn't  see  no  signs  of  any  cloaks, 
and  I  begun  to  git  tired  and  out  o'  patience. 
Finally,  I  walks  up  to  a  man  and  says  I, 

"Mister,  I've  been  handed  round  from  pillar 
to  post  'bout  long  enough  ;  now,  if  there's  any 
place  here  where  I  can  buy  a  cloak,  I'll  be 
obleeged  to  ye  if  you'll  show  me  right  where 
'tis." 

He  pinted  ahead,  as  all  the  rest  had  done,  and 
says  he,  "  Fust  door  to  the  right." 

I  found  a  little  room  all  furnished  nice  like  a 
parlor,  and  not  a  livin'  soul  in  it.  I  s'posed  the 
cloak  room  must  be  nigh,  but  I  thought  I'd 
set  down  and  rest  a  minute,  and  I  declare,  if  1 
didn't  drop  to  sleep  !  And  the  fust  thing  I  knew 
a  young  lady  was  shakin'  me  by  the  arm  like  all 
possesst.  I  opened  my  eyes,  and  when  I'd  corne 
ro  my  senses  a  little  I  spoke  up,  and  says  I, 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD   MATD.  II 

"  "V  oung  woman,  don't  be  so  rough.  I  didn't 
mean  to  go  to  sleep  in  here  ;  but  there  ain't  no 
harm  done,  I  guess." 

"This  isn't  the  lady's  waitin'-room,  I'd  have  ye 
know,"  says  she,  short  as  pie-crust. 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  it,"  says  I,  "for  I  begun  ter 
think  they  was  all  waitin'-rooms,  and  I've  waited 
long  enough.  I  wan'  ter  see  some  cloaks  now, 
and  I  want  you  to  show  'em  to  me." 

So  she  did,  and  I  got  me  a  beauty,  at  a  bargin 
tew,  but  it  took  every  cent  o'  money  I  had  left. 
I  didn't  care  as  long's  I  had  my  return  ticket  all 
right,  and  I  felt  as  if  I'd  spent  enough  for  one 
day — more'n  what  I  ought  ter. 

When  I  come  out  o'  Holton  and  Maxey's,  I 
looked  at  the  clock  and  it  said  quarter  of  five,  and 
the  train  left  at  five  o'clock.  "  No  time  to  spare," 
thinks  I  to  myself.  "  Goodness  gracious  me, 
what  if  I  should  git  left  !  What  would  become 
o'  me,  here  all  alone  in  this  great  city,  without  a 
cent  o'  money  to  pay  for  a  night's  lodgin'  ?" 

I  looked  up  street  for  an  omnibus  or  car,  but 
I  declare  for't,  if  they  wa'n't  every  one  on  'em 
goin'  the  wrong  way  !  I  begun  to  feel  narvous,  I 
tell  ye.  I  asked  a  perliceman  what  I  should  dew, 
and  he  said,  "  Wall,  mum,  you  could  take  a  coach." 
But  there  wa'n't  no  coaches — nothin'  but  omni 
buses  and  cars,  and,  as  I  said  afore,  all  goin'  the 
wrong  way.  I  started  and  run  as  fast  as  I  could 
with  my  arms  full  o'  bundles,  jogglin'  in  and  out 
among  the  crowd,  sometimes  on  the  sidewalk  and 
sometimes  in  the  road.  I  kep'  an  eye  out,  hopin' 
every  minute  that  some  kind  of  a  wagon  might 
come  along  that  would  take  me  in. 


J2  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

Wall,  I  run  and  run,  till  I  got  somewheres 
near  the  place  to  turn  off  Washin'ton  Street,  and 
then  I  inquired  the  way  and  struggled  on,  par.tin' 
and  out  o'  breath.  Finally,  when  I  was  clean 
beat  out,  and  was  makin'  up  my  mind  to  go  back 
and  ask  a  perliceman  to  take  me  to  the  lobby 
and  lock  me  up  safe  for  the  night,  I  spied  a  man 
on  a  coal-cart  joggin'  along  peaceful  as  could  be 
behind  an  old  white  horse,  and  lookin'  as  if  he 
wa'n't  in  any  hurry  if  the  rest  o'  the  world  was. 

I  didn't  stop  to  think  all  this  then,  though, 
you'd  better  believe,  but  I  rushed  right  out  inter 
the  street,  front  of  him,  as  he  come  up,  and  waved 
my  bundles  and  swung  my  umbrell  round  like 
mad ! 

The  old  horse  stopped  short  of  his  own  accord, 
and  the  man  on  the  seat  dropped  his  hands  in  his 
lap,  and  opened  his  mouth  and  stared  at  me,  but 
he  never  said  a  word. 

I  clambered  up  onto  the  seat  beside  of  him,  as 
well  as  I  could,  alone — he  didn't  lift  a  finger  to 
help  me — and  grabbed  the  reins  and  whipped  up 
the  old  horse  into  a  smart  gallop. 

Then  the  man  seemed  to  come  to  his  senses  a 
Httle.  He  took  the  reins  away  from  me  and 
made  as  if  he  was  goin'  to  stop. 

"  Old  lady,"  says  he,  "you  git  out  o'  this." 

"  Oh,  no  ;  I  can't,"  says  I,  givin'  the  old  horse 
a  crack  with  the  whip  that  made  her  jump  so  that 
we  both  almost  fell  over  back'ards  into  the  cart. 
"Oh  no,"  says  I,  "I  must  git  to  the  depot,  and 
you  must  take  me  there  !" 

I  looked  him  right  in  the  face  an  appealed 
to  his  feelin's.  (He  was  a  good,  honest-lookin' 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  1 3 

feller.)  "Young  man,"  said  I,  "have  you  a 
mother  ?"  Then  I  told  him  my  perdickerment 
and  all  about  it,  as  well  as  I  could  for  the  joun- 
cin'  up  and  down,  and  the  holdin'  on.  You  see 
the  seat  wa'n't  nothin'  but  a  loose  board  laid 
acrost  the  top  o'  the  cart,  and  I  was  in  mortal 
fear  o'  my  life  every  minute.  And  oh,  the  noise 
we  made  rattlin'  over  the  stunny  pavements  in 
that  empty  cart  !  A  whole  Fourth  o'  July  slam- 
bang  company  wouldn't  a  been  a  circumstance 
tew  it !  Howsomever,  I  said  to  him  as  loud's  I 
could  scream,  and  he  seemed  to  sense  it,  "  I  am 
left  here  alone  in  this  strange  city,  and  if  you'll  get 
me  to  the  five-o'clock  train  in  season  (it's  the  last 
train  I  can  go  on)  you  shall  be  rewarded,  amply 
rewarded,  young  man  !"  It  takes  a  good  while 
to  tell  this,  but  it  all  happened  in  less  than  fifteen 
minutes  ;  for  we  drove  up  to  the  depot  jest  in 
season,  and  not  one  minute  tew  soon  nuther 
The  bell  was  ringin'  and  the  train  was  on  the  pint 
o'  startin'. 

I  took  out  my  puss  and — wall — then  it  all 
come  over  me  in  a  flash  how  I  had  swindled 
that  young  man. 

"  I  don't  s'pose  you'll  believe  it,"  I  gasped  out, 
"  but  I  forgot — actewally  forgot — that  I  hadn't  a 
cent  o'  money  left  !  Your  address — your  name, 
and  where  do  you  live  ?  I  will  send  the 
money  !" 

He  seemed  stunned  agin  jest  as  he  was  at  fust  ; 
and  I,  feelin'  that  I  hadn't  a  second  to  lose,  run 
for  the  cars,  and  he  started  after  me,  though 
he  hadn't  spoke  a  word. 

Jest  as  the  conductor  was  haulin'  me  up  onto 


T4  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

the  platform  (for  the  train  was  s'.artm'),  he  foui.d 
his  voice  and  yelled  out  a  name,  and  street,  and 
number ;  and  I  heard  it  as  plain  as  I  ever  heard 
anything  in  my  life,  and  I  sollemly  meant  to  re 
member  it,  and  send  him  a  harnsome  present  as 
quick  as  I  got  home  ;  but  the  conductor  spoke 
to  me  ruther  sharp,  asked  me  if  I  vva'n't  ashamed 
o'  myself  "gittin'  onter  the  cars  in  that  shape,  and 
runnin'  such  resks  ?"  And  I  had  ter  explain  tew 
him  that  I  was  anxiuus  to  go  on  that  train,  for 
certain  reasons,  and  so  ^n.  T^e  minute  he  left 
me,  I  got  out  my  pencil  to  writ':,  down  that  ad 
dress,  -and  as  I'm  a  livin'  womar  I  co'ildn't  re 
member  the  fust  word  Ou't !  i  tried  and  tried, 
but  it  wa'n't  no  kind  o'  use  ,  and  I  never  have 
been  able  ter  recall  it  from  that  day  to  this  ! 

I  hain't  been  to  Boston  sence,  but  I  believe  I 
shall  go  a  purpose  to  hunt  up  thzt  poor  young 
man.  I  should  knew  hirv  s^wheres  the  minute 
1  set  eyes  ot>  him 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 


THE   MIND   CURE. 

Of  all  the  cures  that  ever  I  heard  of,  this  'ere 
•'  mind  cure"  beats  the  lot !  I  don't  hardly  know 
what  to  make  on't ;  yet  I  am  alwers  open  to  con 
viction,  and  when  I  see  anything  good  'com- 
plished  by  any  manner  o'  means,  I  am  willin'  to 
give  it  credit.  The  most  I  can  say  for  it,  and 
the  least,  perhaps,  is,  that  I  shouldn't  wonder  if 
the  mind  cure  was  jest  like  the  water  cure,  or  the 
grape  cure,  or  any  other  cure ;  good  in  some 
cases  and  for  some  dizeases,  and  crood  for  nothin' 
in  others. 

But  they  claim — these  metafysicians  do,  as 
the  mind-cure  folks  call  themselves — that  when 
everybody  fully  understands  and  believes  their 
doctrines,  sickness  and  dizease  will  be  conquered. 
And  I  guess  that's  a  safe  enough  thing  to  say  ; 
for  I've  read  their  books  faithful,  and  heard  'em 
lectur'  and  talk  a  good  deal,  and  done  my  best  to 
understand  'em,  and  I've  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  three  quarters  on't  is  sheer  nonsense — a  jum 
ble  o'  words,  nothin'  more.  Some  o'  their  books 
I  dew  think  you  might  as  well  read  back'ards  as 
for'ards,  for  all  sense  they  make  ! 

And  right  here  I'm  goin'  to  stop  and  make  a 
plee  for  plain,  simple  talk  and  simple  writin'. 

Why  can't  folks  express  themselves  so  "s  their 
feller  mortals  can  understand  ?  Why  can't  they 
remember  that  simplicity  is  one  o'  the  vartues 
and  necessit tides  o'  life  ? 


1 6  ADVENTURES  OF  AN   OLJ?  MAID. 

Fine  language  is  like  these  'ere  French  dishes 
at  the  fust-class  hotels  :  the  origins!  flavor  of  the 
vittles  is  spil't  and  lost  in  the  condyments  and  in- 
gregiences  that  they  fix  'em  up  in.  The  conse 
quents  is,  nobody  with  a  nateral,  healthy  appertite 
enjoys  'em.  Oh,  my  friends,  dew  give  us  plain 
vittles  and  plain  English  !  The  majority  orter 
rule  in  them  things  as  well  as  in  polyticks,  and 
the  majority  sartinly  dew  like  plain  vittles  and 
plain  talk  ;  if  they  don't,  they  orter,  anyway. 

But,  as  I  was  sayin',  it'll  proba'ly  be  a  good 
while  'fore  the  world  will  fully  understand  and 
'dopt  the  doctrin's  of  the  metafysicians,  and  in 
the  mean  time  folks  will  be  sick  'bout  the  same  a? 
ever.  Some  will  git  well  o'  their  own  accord,  or 
in  the  course  o'  natur'  without  doctors  and  medi 
cine,  and  some  '11  git  well  in  spite  o'  doctors  and 
medicine,  if  their  constitootions  is  strong  enough. 
Others  will  alwers  believe  they  owe  their  lives  to 
the  mind  cure,  or  some  other  cure — feel  better  ter 
dew  so,  you  know.  I  guess  it's  well  enough 
when  anybody's  sick  to  have  a  doctor,  or  try  y 
"  cure"  of  some  kind.  It's  a  comfort  and  releef — • 
don't  you  think  so  ? 

It's  astonishin'  how  'tached  folks  git  to  theit 
old  family  doctor  !  Mother  often  says  she  couldn't 
die  without  our  Doctor  Bonder ;  and  when  he 
went  away  on  his  trip  to  Californy,  she  declared 
she  wouldn't  be  sick  while  he  was  gone,  for  there 
wa'n't  another  doctor  "she'd  have  to  a  cat !"  And 
she  kep'  her  word,  and  was  real  smart  till  the  day 
after  he  got  home.  Then  she  was  took  down 
with  an  awful  'tack  o'  newralgy,  and  sent  off  for 
him,  post  haste.  But  as  true  's  you  live,  she  was 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  I  7 

so  excited  and  pleased  at  the  thought  o'  seem' 
him  agin,  that  her  nevvralgy  all  left  her  'fore  he 
got  his  horse  hitched.  And  when  he  come  in  and 
shook  hands  and  asked  her  how  she  did,  she  told 
him  she  was  "right  smart,"  and  he  said,  how 
"  she  looked  as  bright  and  harnsome  as  a  young 
girl."  Then  he  begun  to  tell  us  about  his  travels, 
what  he  see,  and  so  on,  and  afterwards  he  stopped 
to  tea.  But  mother's  nevvralgy  didn't  occur  to 
her  at  all,  till  after  he'd  gone  away  ;  then  all  to 
once  she  remembered  and  seemed  kinder  cut  up 
about  it.  She's  been  sick  a  good  many  times 
sence,  but  she  hain't  had  no  more  nevvralgy.  Wall, 
there  !  I  never  thought  on't  before,  but  wa'n't 
that  a  clear  case  o'  mind  cure  ?  Of  course  it  was ! 
But  now,  if  she'd  had  a  bile  on  the  back  of  her 
neck,  I  don't  sp'os'e  the  doctor's  visit  would  a' 
made  much  difference,  do  you  ?  I  guess  like 
enough  she'd  had  ter  polticed  it  some. 

They  pertend  to  say  that  there  ain't  no  sech 
thing  in  reality  as  pizen  or  any  other  substance 
that  '11  kill,  unless  you're  a  min'  ter  let  it.  But  I 
was  readin'  the  other  day  about  a  case  that  oc 
curred  in  one  o'  these  ere  metafysician's  own  fam 
ilies.  One  o'  the  children  swallowed  a  dose  o' 
pizen  by  mistake,  and  what  did  they  dew  ?  Same's 
anybody  else  would.  They  give  her  an  emetick  and 
sent  off  for  a  stummick  pump  !  Didn't  wait  to 
try  no  mind  cure,  nor  preach  no  filosofy  !  I  guess 
they  nateraily  argered  that  it  was  best  to  be  on 
the  safe  side  in  sech  a  case,  don't  you  ? 

Did  I  ever  tell  you  about  Aunt  Polly  Davis's 
experience  with  'em  ? 

She'd  suffered  for  years  from  rheumatiz,  and 


i8  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

finally  it  seemed  to  settle  mostly  into  one  c>£  her 
legs,  so  she  couldn't  get  round  the  house  at  all, 
nor  take  a  step  without  it's  'most  killin'  her.  But 
Aunt  Polly  she's  got  an  awful  sight  o'  grit,  and 
she  wouldn't  give  up  and  be  a  helpless,  good-for- 
nothin'  creatur',  even  then,  but  insisted  on  tryin' 
to  walk  some  every  day,  and  Uncle  Biar  (that's 
her  husband)  got  her  one  o'  these  'ere  rollin' 
chairs,  so  that  with  the  help  o'  the  hired  girl  she 
could  go  out-doors  and  get  the  fresh  air.  She 
used  to  enjoy  life  more'n  some  well  folks,  for  she 
\vas  real  good  company,  and  wherever  she  went 
there  was  alwers  somebody  ready  to  go  along 
with  her,  or  set  down  and  talk  when  she  got 
ready  to  stop.  All  the  young  folks  liked  her,  and 
thought  it  was  a  great  treat  to  spend  an  afternoon 
at  her  house.  Sometimes  she'd  let  'em  "  lay  over " 
her  burow  drawers  and  boxes,  and  she  alwers  give 
'em  some  trinket  or  other  to  carry  home. 

Yes,  everybody  liked  her  and  everybody  felt 
'bout  as  sorry  for  her  as  if  she  belonged  to  their 
own  folks ;  so,  naterally,  when  that  mind-cure 
doctor  come  to  town  and  begun  to  create  a  fury, 
they  was  for  havin'  Aunt  Polly  try  her. 

Aunt  Polly's  sharp  and  keen  in  her  intellecks— 
she's  well  edicated,  too  ;  kep'  the  deestrick  school 
for  years  'fore  she  was  married,  and  you  can't 
humbug  her  more'n  you  could  Mount  Monad- 
nock,  not  a  mite  ! 

Wall,  when  the  Square's  wife  come  to  her  and 
told  her  how  the  new  doctor  had  cured  Seliny 
Watkins,  and  a  nuniber  of  others,  Aunt  Polly 
taugfied,  and  says  she, 

-  There  wan't  aothin'  the  matter  with  ary  one 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  IC> 

on  'em.  Seliny  was  the  wust,  and  all  t!v2f  ailded 
her  was  hypo.  There's  a  difference  betwixt  hypo 
and  rheumatiz,"  says  Aunt  Polly.  'My  dizease 
ain't  in  my  mind  ;  it's  in  my  leg.  Do  you  s'pose 
any  mental  workin's  isagoin'  to  give  me  a  sound 
lim'  ?  Nonsense  !"  says  she. 

"  Wall,  try  her,  anyway,"  says  the  Square's  wife. 
"  She  won't  dew  ye  no  hurt,  and  she  may  dew  ye 
some  good." 

"  All  right ;  fetch  her  along  !"  says  Aunt  Polly. 
So  the  very  next  day  they  sent  her  over. 

Her  name  was — wall,  I  guess  I  won't  tell  hei 
name — but  she  was  acuris-lookin'  woman  ;  nobody 
ever  looked  like  her.  She  was  kinder  fat  and 
flabby  and  pale,  even  her  lips  was  white  ;  but  her 
eyes  was  the  queerest.  When  she  once  looked  at 
you,  they  seemed  to  fasten  on  and  burn  and  bore 
into  ye,  as  it  were. 

And  she  dressed  herself  up  to  look  as  bad  as 
she  could,  convenient,  Fat  as  she  was,  she  wore 
a  garry-baldy  waist,  and  a  short  skirt  half-way  up 
to  her  knees.  Said  she  wore  it  for  "  convenyence 
and  comfort."  And  we  found  out  she  didn't  eat 
much  of  anything ;  lived  on  speritual  food  and 
Graham  crackers,  mostly.  She  said  she  expected 
ter  get  so's  she  could  live  without  eatin1  at  all, 
sometime — throw  off  the  "material  body"  and 
its  wants  altogether. 

Aunt  Polly  said  afterwards  that  "  as  long's  she 
was  in  the  body  she  thought  she  orter  tend  tew  it, 
for  looks'  sake,  if  not h in'  more.  She  did  look  like 
the  Old  Harry." 

She  had  a  pleasant  way  enough  with  her ;  and 
when  she  come  and  set  down  side  of  Aunt  Polly, 


20  ADVEN1UKZ.S  Or   AN  OLD  MAID. 

so  kinder  home-like  and  quiet,  she  didn't  mind 
the  garry-baldy,  nor  the  borin'  eyes.  She  showed 
her  her  lim',  all  swelled  up,  and  out  o'  shape  and 
angry,  and  says  she, 

"There  !  that's  a  pretty-lookin'  lim',  ain't  it  ?" 

The  doctor  sighed  real  pitiful. 

"  It  is  very  bad — in  your  belief — certainly," 
she  said. 

"  In  my  belief  !"  says  Aunt  Polly.  "  In  your 
belief  too,  ain't  it  ?  You've  got  eyes — you  see  for 
yourself  !  My  belief  !"  says  Aunt  Polly,  'most  a 
good  min'  ter  be  mad. 

"  My  friend,"  says  the  doctor,  "  real  soothin," 
let  me  tell  you,  to  begin  with,  that  we  deny  the 
existence  of  dizease  except  in  the  perverted 
minds  of  deluded  men  and  women.  There  is 
no  dizease  there,"  pintin'  to  the  lim'.  "  We 
deny  it."  She  spoke  very  firm  an  begun  to  bore 
with  her  eyes.  Aunt  Polly  laughed. 

"  I  s'posp  if  you  should  tell  me  there  wa'n't  no 
nose  on  your  face,  you'd  expect  me  to  believe  it  ?" 
she  says,  sarkastic.  Aunt  Polly  didn't  mean 
nothin'  special,  but  the  doctor  woman  had  an 
awful  big,  fat,  round  nose  like  Fredriky  Breemer's 
in  the  picter,  ye  know.  She  clapped  her  hand 
over  her  nose  and  colored  up  red's  a  beet.  Aunt 
Polly  knew  then  that  her  nose  was  her  sensitive 
pint.  Funny,  wa'n't  it  ?  "I  beg  pardon,"  says 
Aunt  Polly,  "  I  didn't  mean  ter  say  nothin'  per 
sonal." 

"  These  things  must  be  speritually  dizerned, 
my  friend,"  says  the  doctor,  recoverin'  her  dignerty. 
"  Will  you  now,  for  a  few  minutes,  try  to  forgit 
your  body  and  give  your  mind  to  what  I  shall  say  ?" 


ADVENTURES   OF  AN  OLD   MAID.  21 

She  looked  at  Aunt  Polly  in  her  queer 
way,  and  Aunt  Polly  says,  "  Why,  yes,  I.dunno1 
but  what  I  will — though  the  facts  remain — here 
they  be.  Here's  my  lim'  jest  as  it  is,  an  here's 
your  n — I  mean  here's  Square  Jones's  barn  (look- 
in'  out  o'  the  winder).  They  dew  exist.  You 
can't  wipe  'em  out,  if  you  dew  forgit  'em  !" 

"  I  want  you  to  try  ter  see  that  the  mind  is  in 
finitely  sooperior  to  the  body — the  body  is  only 
its  slave  and  subordinate." 

"  I  should  say,"  speaks  up  Aunt  Polly,  "  that 
with  a  good  many  folks  the  body  was  the  main 
part.  I  know  some  that  hain't  got  mind  enough 
ter  keep  'em  out  o'  mischief  when— 

"  Iwant  you  to  think  of  man  as  he  should  be — 
as  God  made  him,"  says  the  doctor. 

"  Oh,"  says  Aunt  Polly,  "  it's  a  good  while  sence 
he  was  made.  We're  all  in  a  state  o'  sin  and 
misery  now,  you  know.  I  guess  thinkin'  we're 
different  won't  make  us  so  ;  we'll  have  to  take 
folks  as  they  be." 

"  Well,  take  'em  as  they  be !"  answers  the 
doctor,  a  little  grain  out  o'  patience.  "  Ain't  it 
pleasa nter  to  think  of  your  sperit  than  of  your 
body  ?  Your  sperit,  which  is  a  part  of  God — is 
God,  with  whom  dizease  or  evil  of  any  kind  can 
not  exist — and  don't  you  see  that  if  you  are  a  part 
of  God  no  dizease  can  really  exist  with  you  ?': 

"  No,  I  don't  see  no  sech  thing  !  God  give  us 
bodies,  and  I  think  's  likely  they  was  well  enough 
to  begin  with  ;  but  they  didn't  stay  so  long,  and 
they  ain't  now — that  is,  some  on  'em." 

The  doctor  hove  a  deep  sigh.  "  I  see  I  can 
not  do  much  for  you  at  present,"  she  said  ;  "  but 


22  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

possibly  if  you  could  come  to  the  meetin'  to 
night,  you  might  git  started  in  the  right  direc 
tion." 

"  If  other  folks  can  believe  they  are  well  when 
they  ain't,  I  can,"  says  Aunt  Polly,  "  and  I  mean  to 
give  the  thing  a  thorough  trial.  I'll  go  to  the 
meetin',  I'll  be  there,"  says  Aunt  Polly. 

The  doctor  smiled  encouragin'.  "  You  are  on 
the  right  track  already,  my  friend,"  she  said, 
and  went  away. 

That  night  they  wheeled  Aunt  Polly  to  the 
town-hall  in  her  chair,  and  carried  her  up  the 
stairs  in  their  arms.  The  two  mind-cure  women 
come  along  up  at  the  same  time,  and  one  on  'em 
spoke  and  says, 

"If  you  will,  you  can  walk  down,  a  whole 
woman  !" 

"  P'raps  I  can,"  mutters  Aunt  Polly,  shettin' 
her  teeth  together. 

Well,  they  said  about  the  same  things  that 
she'd  heard,  and  told  over  a  good  many  wonder 
ful  cures  that  had  been  performed.  Though 
they  seemed  to  think  the  mind  was  all  that  needed 
curin'. 

Aunt  Polly  was  all  worked  up  to  the  highest 
pitch  when  they  got  through.  She  remembered 
the  years  she  had  been  in  torment  with  her 
rheumatiz,  and  all  the  time  givin'  herself  credit 
for  throwin'  it  off  oncommon  well ;  and  now  to 
be  told  that  there  wa'n't  no  need  of  all  that  grit 
and  endurance — she  couldn't  stan'  it !  She  speaks 
up,  arid  says  she  to  the  women, 

"  You  see  me  when  I  was  brought  up  them 
stairs  to-night  ?"  They  nodded  "  We  did  ;  and 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN   OLD  MAID.  23 

a  very  bad  way  you  was  in  too — in  belief." 
"  And,"  continues  Aunt  Polly  "  you  mean  ter  say 
that  I  can  walk  down  them  stairs,  and  walk  home 
if  I  only  believe  I  can,  and  will  ter  dew  it  strong 
enough  ?" 

"There  is  no  doubt  on't,"  they  answers carmly. 

"  TJien  I  will,  if  I  break  my  neck  T  says  Aunt 
Polly. 

The  doctors  looked  kinder  oneasy,  and  all  the 
nabors  gethered  round  and  begged  on  her  not  to 
do  sech  a  foolish  thing,  and  resk  her  life,  but  her 
spunk  was  up. 

"  You  heard  them  cases  they  told  about — wuss 
than  mine  they  was  ?  Wall,  what  they  did  I  can 
do,  and  I  will.  Don't  tech  me — and  don't  hen- 
der  me  !  My  mind's  made  up  !"  Her  hired  girl 
flew  out  to  get  Uncle  Biar  to  come  and  forbid  her 
or  stop  her  somehow  ;  but  la  !  you  might  as  well 
tried  ter  hender  chain  lightnin'!  She  riz  up  and 
hobbled  out  quite  smart  to  the  head  o'  the  stairs, 
and  then  with  her  teeth  shet  firm  together,  and  an 
awful  look  in  her  eyes,  and  with  us  all  a  watchin' 
and  holdin'  our  breath,  not  darin'  to  touch  her, 
she  actewally  steps  off  from  the  broad  top  stair 
and— 

Wall,  Uncle  Biar  got  there  jest  in  time  to  pick 
her  up,  at  the  bottom  o'  the  stairs,  where  she 
tumbled  and  lay  all  in  a  bruised,  senseless  heap  ! 
And  her  well  leg  was  broke  ! 

They  took  her  home  and  put  her  to  bed,  and 
\ve  all  expected  to  lose  Aunt  Polly  sure.  In  the 
rnornin'  the  mind-cure  women  wa'n't  to  be  found. 
They  had  disappeared — left  town.  But  I  wron't 
keep  you  in  suspense.  Aunt  Polly  didn't  die. 


24  ADVE<\TTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

She  laid  there,  I  don't  know  how  many  weeks  ; 
and  when  her  broken  lim'  got  wells  the  other 
one  was  well  too  !  And  she  hain't  never  had  no 
more  rheumatiz  from  that  day  ter  this  ! 

She  don't  lay  up  nothin'  aginst  the  mind-euro 
folks  ;  she  says  they  cured  her,  after  al) 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN   OLD   MAID. 


HER  EXPERIENCE   IN   PALMISTRY. 

They  call  it  "  Parmistry"  now-days,  and  speak 
on't  as  an  "  occult  sience,"  and  so  on  ;  but 'tain't 
nothin'  in  the  world  but  jest  tellin'  fortunes  by 
the  lines  o'  the  hands. 

We  didn't  use  to  calkerlate  that  anybody  knew 
much  about  it  but  "  hory  sages"  and  gipsies,  but 
now  it's  all  the  rage  among  fashnerble  people  and 
respectable  folks,  same's  paintin'  on  chiny  or 
Kensin'ton  embroidery,  you  know. 

When  I  was  down  to  the  beach  'long  with  my 
niece — she  that  was  Araminty  Smith — every- 
body  was  chuckin'  full  on't ;  it  did  beat  all ! 

The  young  fellers  went  into  't  head  fust.  It 
give  'em  such  a  good  chance  to  hold  the  girls' 
hands,  and  look  into  their  eyes,  and  dew  a  good 
many  things  they  couldn't  no  other  way. 

And  the  girls,  they  was  glad  o'  the  excuse  to 
say  disagreeable  things  to  them  they  had  a  spite 
aginst,  and  to  make  love  in  an  underhanded  way, 
as  ye  might  say,  to  the  young  men  they  liked  the 
looks  on. 

There  was  one  harnsome,  black-eyed  girl  to 
the  hotel  where  we  stopped,  that  knew  more 
about  it  than  all  the  rest  of  'em  put  together. 
They  called  her  the  "  Gipsy  Queen,"  and  every 
evenin'  when  we  was  all  down  in  the  parlors, 
there'd  be  a  crowd  round  her,  havin'  their  for 
tunes  told.  It  was  curis  to  hear  her  go  on  ;  ruther 
onpleasant  too,  sometimes.  She  had  sech  a  way 


26  ADVENTURES   OF  AN  OLD  MAW. 

o'  huntin'  out  a  person's  weak  pints,  and  holdin' 
em  up  for  the  rest  to  laugh  at.  But,  after  all,  she 
,vas  good-natered  about  it  ;  and  as  she  sarved  us 
pretty  much  alike,  nobody  thought  o'  gittin'  mad 
at  her. 

Wall,  after  we  got  home,  Minty  and  me,  we 
continered  to  think  o'  the  subjeck,  and  finally  we 
took  a  notion  we'd  study  up  so  we  could  tell  for 
tunes  ourselves.  We  went  on  and  ransacked  the 
bookstores  and  libries  from  one  end  ter  t'other; 
and  we  examined  and  studied  the  hands  of  all 
the  members  o'  the  family,  till  the)''  was  com 
pletely  wore  out.  Jack — that's  Minty's  husband 
—said  how  his'n  was  paralized. 

Jack  had  an  oncommon  good  hand  to  study, 
bein  's  the  lines  was  so  clear  and  deep,  and  sech 
a  lot  on  'em.  He  said  w^'d  found  everything 
there,  "from  a  large  family  o'  children  to  a  sea 
voyage — everything  but  a  five-dollar  bill." 

When  we'd  worked  ourselves  into  quite  an  ex 
citement  over  it,  and  our  resorces  was  pretty  nigh 
exhausted,  Jack  he  come  to  the  rescue,  as  it 
were.  One  day  he  come  luggin'  along  in  to  the 
room  where  we  set  the  biggest  book  I  ever  see  ! 
He  laid  it  down  onto  the  table  as  careful  as  if  it 
had  been  so  much  gold. 

"  There,  girls,"  says  he,  "if  you  must  study  the 
black  arts,  you'd  better  go  to  the  founting  head. 
You  see  this  'ere  book  ?  Wall,  here's  the  hull 
thing  !  Now  I  advise  you  to  set  right  down  teu 
it  and  make  yourselves  comf'terble.  And  mind, 
hereafter  I  want  you  to  let  me  alone." 

Minty  dropped  on  her  knees  before  the  mon 
strous  volyume  and  looked  at  the1  title-page. 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  27 

"  Why,  Aunt  Ruth  !"  she  said,  "it's  over  two 
hundred  years  old!  Think  of  it  !  And,  oh  clear 
me,  do  look  at  all  the  queer  diergrams  and  things  ! 
How  on  airth  did  you  git  hold  o'  sech  a  treasure, 
Jack?" 

"  Money  fetched  it,"  said  he,  laughin'.  "  I  paid 
a  dollar  for  every  year,  and  more  too.  All  I 
hope  is,  that  you'll  git  the  vally  o'  the  money  out 
on't !"  And  he  shrugged  up  his  shoulders  and 
went  off  laughin'. 

Wall,  I  don't  s'pose  it  was  no  more  nor  less'n 
idolatry  the  way  we  acted  with  that  old  book. 
One  or  t'other  on  us  was  on  our  bended  knees 
afore  it  the  biggest  part  o'  the  time.  But  it  was 
dretful  hard  gittin'  anything  practikle  out  on't, 
because  the  writer  seemed  to  be  oneo'  them  prosy, 
long-winded  fellers  that  never  says  anything  right 
straight  out,  nor  comes  to  the  pint  'less  they're 
'bliged  tew.  So  we  had  to  wade  through  oceans 
o'  words  to  git  a  single  idee. 

It  was  all  spelt  with  long  s's  too.  I  must  say, 
I  think  there's  been  improvements  in  the  art  o' 
rpellin',  if  in  nothin'  else.  Our  forefathers  was 
awful  shifless  'bout  some  things  !  However,  we 
managed  to  git  a  good  deal  that  was  new  and 
curis,  that  we  couldn't  probably  a  found  anywheres 
else.  I  s'pose  that's  what  made  the  book  wuth 
so  much — though  Jack  says  now-days  anything 
two  hundred  years  old  is  wuth  its  weight  in  gold, 
except  old  maids,  and  them  don't  fetch  half-price. 

Wall,  when  we'd  got  the  "mounts"  and  "  lines" 
and  things  pretty  well  fixed  in  our  heads,  we  be 
gun  to  be  crazy  to  tell  everybody's  fortune. 

Our  washvvoman  was  one  o'   the  fust  subjecks 


28  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD 

we  lited  on  to.  She  took  her  great  hand  out  o' 
the  tub  and  held  it  up  to  us  drippin'  with  suds, 
as  tickled  as  could  be  to  have  her  fortune  told. 
There's  nothin'  more  univarsal  than  the  desire  to 
know  the  futur',  is  there  ? 

Biddy's  hand  was  a  sight  to  see  ;  as  red  as  a 
piece  o'  beef,  and  all  scarred  and  seamed  !  There 
was  holes  on  the  back  that  the  rats  gnawed  when 
she  was  comin'  over  from  Ireland  in  the  steerage. 
One  finger  had  been  took  off  by  a  machine,  and 
the  rest  was  all  drawed  out  o'  shape  with  rheu- 
matiz.  It  didn't  take  no  sience  nor  book  larnin' 
to  tell  that  poor  Biddy's  lot  had  been  a  hard  one. 
But  she  asked  the  same  question  they  all  do,  in 
variable. 

"  Shall  I  live  long?"  says  she.  "  I  should  like 
ter  live  long,  mum,"  lookin'  up  into  my  face, 
wistful  and  confidin'  as  a  child. 

She  had  lived  long  a'ready  She  was  in  her 
sixty-fifth  year,  but  bein'  's  sne's  perfectly  well, 
and  tough  as  an  ox,  she  bids  fair  to  live  many  a 
year  longer. 

So  I  says,  "'Cordin'  to  all  'pearances,  Biddy, 
you'll  live  forever." 

"An'  is  it  rich  I'm  goin'  to  be?"  she  asked 
next,  just  as  they  all  do. 

"  I  don't  see  no  legacies  nowheres/'  says  I ; 
"  but  you'll  never  want  for  bread." 

"  Ligacies,  is  it?"  she  repeated,  with  a  broad 
grin.  "  Sure  an'  I've  had  me  ligacy  !  Didn't 
Mary  Mulrooney  lave  me  the  ilcgant  warmin'- 
pan  ?  Wait,  now,  till  I  tell  ye  how*  it  was. 
When  I  went  to  borry  it  of  her  the  last  time,  she 
was  mad,  and  she  says  ter  me,  '  Biddy  Sullivan. 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD   MAW.  2$ 

it's  tired  o'  lindin'  I  am,  intirely  !  Kape  the  long- 
handled  thing  now,  till  I  call  for  it,'  says  she. 

"And  whin  I  heard  she  was  dead  the  other 
day,  I  claps  me  ould  man  on  the  back,  and  says 
I,  '  Mike,  she'll  niver  call  for  the  warmin'-pan 
now!'  says  I.  '  Thrue  for  you/  says  he,  'it's  a 
ligacy  ! '  That  same  was  his  very  word.  But  go 
on  with  the  fortune,  mum." 

"Oh,  you  have  a  good  heart-line,  and  a  fair 
head-line,  and  your  last  days  will  be  your  best," 
says  I,  glib  as  a  poll-parrot. 

"  Glory  be  to  God  for  that,  mum  !"  says 
Biddy,  fervent  as  a  Methodist  meetin'.  "  What 
with  Mike's  batin's,  whin  he's  in  the  dhrink,  and 
me  pinin'  for  the  fine  litter  o'  pigs  gone  from  us 
in  the  spring,  it's  nade  enough  I  have  o'  better 
times ;  it  is  indade !"  and  a  big  tear  or  two  fell 
into  the  wash-tub. 

It's  curis,  but  everybody  wants  fortune  to 
bring 'em  somethin'  they  hain't  got  and  can't  have. 
Them  that  hain't  no  children  are  dretful  anxious 
to  find  them  in  their  hands.  The  poor  want 
legacies  and  riches  ;  fools  want  honors  ;  and  cut- 
and-dried  old  maids — that  all  the  signs  in  the 
Zodiack  couldn't  alter  —  they  want  husbands. 
And,  funniest  of  all,  married  folks  are  dyin'  to 
have  you  say  they're  goin'  to  be  widders  or  wid- 
derrers  pretty  soon  !  And  when  you  tell  'em 
they'll  probably  enjoy  a  good  many  years  with 
their  present  pardners,  they  don't,  as  a  gineral 
thing,  look  quite  happy. 

Minty's  minister  is  a  good  man,  but  awful  sot 
and  old-fashioned  in  his  notions,  and  he  wants 
everybody  to  think  jest  as  he  does. 


3O  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

Now  I  like  these  'ere  old-fashioned  folks,  my 
self,  and  hain't  a  word  to  say  aginst  'em,  only  I 
dew  believe  most  on  'em  have  weak  spots,  jest 
the  same  as  other  folks.  Minty's  minister  had, 
and  I  must  say  I  was  sorry  to  have  a  hand  in 
findin'  'em  out. 

You  see,  somebody'd  told  him  how  carried 
away  we  was  on  the  subjeck  o'  Parmistry,  and 
about  our  old  book,  and  so  on,  and  what  does  he 
dew  but  come  right  over  to  set  us  right. 

He  spoke  out  very  severe  ;  said  how't  he  was 
"  sorry  to  see  any  o'  his  flock  spendin'  their 
airthly  probation  in  such  friverlous,  not  to  say 
wicked,  pursoots,"  and  he  wound  up  as  follers  : 

"  Fortune-tellin',  my  dear  ladies,  is  no  more 
nor  less  than  a  silly  humbug,  by  which  only  the 
ignorant  and  superstitious  should  be  took  in," 
etc.,  etc. 

''Yes,  sir,  I  know,"  says  Minty,  lookin'  up  at 
him  with' her  great  eyes,  humble  and  respeckful 
as  could  be,  "  of  course  nobody  would  expect 
you  to  take  any  stock  in  it ;  we  don't  really,  but 
it  is  curis  and  amusin'  sometimes." 

She  turned  her  face  up  to  his,  innercent  as  a 
baby,  and  took  hold  o'  one  of  his  white  hands, 
and  looked  at  it  kinder  absent  like,  then  turned 
it  over  and  looked  agin  at  the  palm. 

He  had  known  her  ever  sence  she  was  a  baby, 
and  he  was  old  enough  to  be  her  par  ;  so  now  he 
smiled  down  onto  her,  indulgent  but  very  soo- 
perior. 

"  What  nice  hands  !"  says  Minty  ;  "  long,  taper- 
in'  fingers — hands  o'  the  highest  order,  'cordin'  to 
the  old  book,  Aunt  Ruth." 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLf>  MAID  3 1 

"  Yes,"  says  I,  dravvin'  my  chair  up  along-side, 
"  and — he's  got  a  double  line  o'  life,  Minty 
Smith  !  The  fust  one  I  ever  see  !" 

"And  what  might  a  'double  line  o'  life'  be, 
and  what  does  it  portend  ?"  he  asked,  sarcastick 
and  grand  as  the  Great  Mogul. 

"  Oh,"  says  Minty,  follerin'  it  out  with  her 
ringer,  "that's  it,  and  it  means  everything  good 
and  great !" 

"  And  then,"  she  goes  on  gushin',  "  your 
head-line  is  wonderful  deep  and  clear,  and  your 
heart-line — oh,  dear  !  it  must  be  tryin'  for  a  minis 
ter  of  the  Gospil  to  be  sech  a  favorite  with  the 
ladies!"  She  sighed  and  looked  at  him  admir- 
in'ly. 

"  Come,  come  !"  laughed  the  minister,  givin' 
up  both  his  hands  to  her  and  settlin'  back  com 
fortable  in  his  chair.  "It  is  amusin' — that  is, 
rarther — for  anything  so  foolish,  you  know.  You 
may  go  on,  my  child." 

Then  she  told  him  a  good  deal  that  tickled 
and  flattered  him  mitily.  So  fur  it  was  all  favor 
able.  But  all  of  a  suddin  Minty  give  a  little 
scream  and  dropped  his  hand. 

"  Was  you  ever  drownded? — Oh  dear!  I  beg 
pardon  ;  of  course  you  never  was  !  But  didn't 
you  never  fall  into  the  water  nor  nothin'." 

"  Never  !"  says  the  minister,  lookin'  wild  and 
settin'  bolt  upright  in  his  chair.  "  What  dew  you 
mean,  child  ?" 

Minty  looked  distressed,  but  she  didn't  answer. 

"  What  do  you  see  ?  or  what  do  you  think  you 
see  ?"  asked  the  minister. 

Minty  laughed   kinder   histerikle.     "  Pshaw !" 


32  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

she  says,  "  of  course  there  ain't  nothin'  in  it,  no 
way." 

''  Certainly  not — of  course  not ;  but  perceed," 
he  said,  tryin'  to  smile.  "  I  assure  you  I  find  it 
very  amusin' — very  much  so,  indeed." 

"  But  it  ain't  exactly  funny — or  wouldn't  be 
if  it  was  true,"  said  Minty.  "See  here  !"  and, 
turnin'  to  a  diergram  in  the  old  book,  she  showed 
him  where  the  tips  of  the  fingers  was,  full  of 
wavy  little  lines ;  and,  sure  enough,  there,  on  every 
finger  of  the  minister's  hand,  was  jest  the  same 
lines,  as  plain  as  day,  and  it  said  in  the  book  that 
sech  signs  meant  dangers  by  water,  or  deatJi  by 
drowniri . 

The  minister  laughed  a  feeble  little  laugh  and 
picked  up  his  hat  to  go. 

"  Curis,  very  curis,  certainly,"  he  said,  "but 
foolish." 

"  I  s'pose  it  is."  said  Minty,  most  a  cryin';  but 
if  I  was  you,  I'd  keep  away  from  the  water. 
Don't  never  go  nigh  it,  will  you  ?" 

"  Our  lives  are  in  the  Lord's  hands,"  he  an 
swered,  very  sollum. 

"  Yes,  but  you'll  be  safest  on  dry  land,"  said 
Minty,  and  he  went  away. 

Now,  sot  as  he  was,  strong  in  doctrine  and  in 
intelleck  as  he  was,  he  had  his  weak  spot,  didn't 
he  ?  And  he'll  be  afraid  o'  the  water  as  long  as 
he  lives ! 

He  even  went  so  fur  as  to  have  an  artificial 
pond  on  his  grounds  filled  up.  Said  how't 
"  standin'  water  wa'n't  helthy ;"  and  when  his 
socierty  offered  him  a  vacation  and  money  to  pay 
his  expenses  to  go  to  Europe,  he  took  the  vaca- 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  $* 

tion  and  the  money,  but  his  physician  didn't 
think  a  sea-voyage  would  be  beneficial  tew  him, 
so  he  went  to  the  White  Mountings  instid." 

"  Poor  man,"  said  Minty  when  she  heard  about 
it ;  "  he  needn't  hang  off ;  if  he  is  to  be  drownded 
he  will  be,  if  he  never  goes  nigh  the  water !" 

But  between  you'n  me,  I  don't  believe  much 
in  Parmistry  nor  pny  other  forUme-tellin'. 


34  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 


POOR  AUNT  BETSEY. 

I  was  settin'  by  my  winder  the  other  mornin', 
and,  hearin'  the  sound  o'  voices,  I  looked  out,  and 
there  was  old  Aunt  Betsey  Griffin  and  her  little 
nefew  Jimmy,  down  on  their  knees  in  our  door- 
yard  diggin'  dandylions. 

Aunt  Betsey's  awful  deaf,  and  Jimmy  he  had 
ter  holler  loud's  he  could  in  his  little  pipin'  voice 
to  make  her  hear. 

"Aunt  Betsey!"  he  screamed,  "what  made  ye 
bring  sech  a  great  big  basket  for?" 

"  'Cos,"  says  Aunt  Betsey,  "  I  wanted  ter  git  a' 
good  mess.  Yes,"  says  she,  diggin'  away,  "  we 
wan'  ter  git  &  good  mess,  Jimmy.  I  says  to  your 
marm  this  mornin',  '  Mary,  we  hain't  had  a  dish 
o'  greens  this  spring,'  says  I,  '  and  I'm  jest  han- 
kerin'  arter  some,  as  it  were.  Dandylions  is  real 
healthy  in  the  spring  o'  the  year,  and  they'd  go 
fust  rate  'long  o'  the  biled  dish  ter  day.' 

"  'All  right,'  says  your  marm,  'only  if  you  git 
any,  git  a  good  mess  ;  I  wouldn't  wash  a  little  dab 
on  'em  and  git  'em  ready  ter  bile  for  'em/ 
"And  she  shall  have  a  good  mess,"  says  Aunt 
Betsey,  chucklin'  and  pullin'away  at  a  tough  one. 
"  She  shall  have  a  good  mess  on  'em,  Jimmy." 

Jimmy  laid  down  on  the  grass  and  begun  ter 
play  "  stick"  with  his  old  case-knife. 

"  Say,  Aunt  Betsey,"  he  screams  pretty  soon, 


"AUNT  BETSEY!"   HE   SCREAMED,   "WHAT  MADE  YE   BRING   SECH 

GREAT   BIG   BASKET    FOR  ?"       (Page  34.) 

35 


36  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

"  I'm  all  tuckered  out !  Hain't  we  got  'bout 
enough  ?" 

Aunt  Betsey  straightened  herself  up  slow — for 
her  jints  is  stiff — and  looked  inter  the  baskit. 

"  Wall,  I  dunno  but  we  have,"  says  she  ;  "  you 
can  carry  'em  home  to  your  marm — dandylions 
ain't  heavy — and  I'll  jest  step  in  and  see  Ruth 
Ann  a  few  minutes,  now  I'm  here." 

I  alvvers  like  to  have  Aunt  Betsey  come,  but 
she's  got  a  way  o'  tellin'  the  same  stories  over'n 
over  every  time  you  see  her,  and  some  folks  think 
it's  kinder  tiresome  ;  but  la !  as  long  as  she  enjoys 
it  and  it  don't  hurt  nobody,  let  her  dew  it,  I  say. 
Old  folks  can't  be  young  folks,  of  course.  She's 
a  good  woman  if  ever  there  was  one,  and  bright 
as  a  button  about  some  things,  notwithstandin'  all 
she's  been  through. 

When  she  come  in  I  give  her  the  rockin'  chaii 
and  screamed  into  her  ear  as  loud's  I  could, 
"How  do  ye  dew  to-day,  Aunt  Betsey  ?"  I  gin- 
erally  manage  to  make  her  understand  as  much  as 
that  to  begin  with,  and  then  let  her  go  on  and  do 
the  heft  o'  the  talkin'  herself. 

•"  Oh,"  says  she,  "  I'm  middlin'  smart — from  fair 
ter  middlin' — considerin'." 

That's  what  she  alvvers  says,  invariable. 

Then  she  looked  out  o'  the  winder  and  laughed 
in  her  simple  way,  and  I  knew  jest  what  was 
comin',  but  I  let  her  run  on. 

"It  was  sech  a  mornin'  as  this,  Ruth  Ann," 
says  she,  "  in  the  spring  o'  the  year,  in  dandylion 
time,  that  marm  and  I  was  washiti'  a  mess  o' 
greens  for  dinner,  and  all  to  once  there  come  a 
rap  on  the  door,  and  lookin'  out  o'  the  winder  we 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN   OLD  MAID.  37 

see  a  great  white  boss  standin'  by  the  gate,  with  a 
gay  saddle  on  him,  and  a  darky  holdin'  him  by 
the  bridle. 

"  Marm  she  went  ter  the  door,  and  there  stood 
as  harnsome  a  man  as  I  ever  set  eyes  on — all 
dressed  up  in  his  regimentles,  he  was — and  he 
took  off  his  hat  to  marm  as  perlite  as  you  please, 
and  made  her  a  bow. 

"  '  How  do  you  do,  madam  ?'  says  he. 

"  Marm  kerchied  down  ter  the  floor,  and  says 
she,  '  I  hope  I  see  ye  well,  sir  ;  won't  ye  come  in  ?' 

"  '  Thank  you,'  says  he,  as  perlite  as  you  please, 
and  he  come  in  and  set  down,  and  put  his  hat  on 
the  floor.  Then  he  asks, 

"  '  Is  your  husband  about  home  this  mornin'  ?' 

"'No,  sir;  I'm  sorry  ter  say  he  ain't,' says 
marm;  'he's  jest  gone  down  ter  the  vil 
lage.' 

" '  Very  well,'  says  he,  '  I  shall  find  him  there, 
I  presume.' 

"And  he  picks  up  his  hat  as  if  ter  go,  when  he 
spies  me  a-hidin'  behind  his  chair,  and  lookin'  at 
him  bashful,  with  my  finger  in  my  mouth. 

"  I  was  only  a  little  gal,  but  he  turns  round  ter 
me,  lookin'  kinder  sollum  and  gentle  inter  my 
face,  and  he  puts  his  hand  on  my  head  and  says 
he,  '  Little  gal,  grow  up  ter  be  a  blessin'  and 
comfort  to  your  mother.' 

"Them  was  his  identikle  words,  Ruth  Ann," 
says  Aunt  Betsey,  snifrlin'  and  wipin'  her  eyes,  as 
she  alwers  does  when  she  gits  ter  this  place  in  her 
story. 

"  Yes,  he  laid  his  liand  on  to  my  head — and  I 
was  an  awful  bashful  little  gal — but  I  looked  up 


38  ADVENTURES   OF  AN   OLD   MAID. 

into  his  face  when  he  spoke  them  words,  and  I 
says,  tremblin', 

"  '  Mister,  I  will,'  says  I  ;  and  then  I  hung  down 
my  head  scairt  enough  ;  but  I  never  forgot  the 
smile  he  give  me,  nor  how  good  and  carm  he 
looked,  like  the  picters  of  the  Lord  in  the  big- 
Bible  ;  and  I  felt  pooty  much  as  if  the  Lord 
Himself  had  took  my  promise,  as  it  were. 

"Wall,  then  he  bows  ter  marm  and  me,  and 
goes  out  and  jumps  on  to  his  great  white  hoss 
and  gallops  away. 

"And  I  never  forgot  them  words,"  says  Aunt 
Betsey  agin,  rockin'  and  lookin'  off  across  the 
fields  in  a  dreamy  kind  of  way  ;  "  and  while  I  was 
a-takin'  care  o'  marm  all  them  years  alone,  and 
she  a  helpless  creatur',  I  often  said  it  over  to  my 
self,  '  Be  a  comfort  to  your  mother : '  and  I  alwers 
answered  back  as  I  did  that  mornin',  '  I  will,  I 
will.'  And  I  guess  I  was  ;  leastways,  marm  used 
ter  say  to  me,  '  Darter  Betsey,  you're  good  to 
your  poor  old  marm.  The  Lord  reward  ye  !' 

"  But  she  never  knew  all  I  give  up  for  her  sake. 
I  wouldn't  let  her  know.  Poor  old  soul !  She 
had  trouble  enough  of  her  own  to  bear,  without 
thinkin'  o'  mine.  What  with  her  aches  and  pains, 
and  father's  takin'  ter  drink,  and  brother  Joe's 
runnin'  away,  a  body'd  say  she  didn't  need  much 
more  ter  kill  her.  It  was  a  mystery  how  she 
lived  as  long  as  she  did." 

Aunt  Betsey  fell  ter  musin'  here,  and  kep'  still 
for  some  little  time  ;  but  she  hadn't  got  done. 

"  Marm  never  knew,  for  I  never  told  her,"  she 
goes  on,  bimeby.  "  I  never  told  her  how  I  sent 
Dan'l  Jones  a-goin'  when  he  asked  me  ter  marry 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  39 

him,  ruther'n  leave  her  to  the  care  o'  strangers. 
I  was  all  she  had,  ye  see,  and  I  dunno's  I  was 
ever  sorry  I  done  it  ;  only  now  she's  dead  and 
gone,  and  I'm  an  old  woman  myself,  it  doos  seem 
ruther  hard,  sometimes,  that  I  shouldn't  have  no 
darter  to  take  care  of  me  in  my  old  age  ;  nobody 
but  sister  Griffin,  and  she  only  a  half-sister,  and 
grudgin'  at  that.  'Seems  's  if  the  Lord  had  forgot 
all  I  done  for  marm — 't  any  rate  He  don't  seem 
to  consider  me  wuth  bein'  took  care  on — but 
there,  Ruth  Ann!— 

She  looked  up  inter  my  face  with  a  pitiful 
quiverin'  kind  o'  smile  that  I  couldn't  stand  no 
way.  I  took  her  poor  old  wrinkled  hands  in 
mine,  and  screamed  into  her  ear  that  I  felt  for 
her,  and  that  I  didn't  believe  the  Lord  had  foi- 
got  her,  and  so  on. 

"  Oh,  it's  all  right,  it's  all  right,  I  know,  Ruth 
Ann,"  she  says,  "  but  I  can't  help  speakin'  out 
sometimes.  I  dew  hope  I  shall  be  forgiven — that 
the  Lord  won't  lay  it  up  agin  me,  considerin'." 

She  whimpered  a  little,  and  then  wiped  up  her 
eyes,  and  set  rockin'  easy,  back'ards  and  for'ards, 
for  quite  a  spell,  till  finally  she  dropped  off  to 
sleep.  Poor  old  soul  !  I  s'pose  she  was  tired. 

VVhen  she  waked  up,  I  went  into  the  bedroom 
and  got  six  great  red  peppermints  for  her — she's 
master  fond  o'  peppermints — and  she  eat  one  or 
two  of  'em  and  brightened  up  wonderful.  Pep 
permints  be  warmin'  and  comfortin',  that's  a  fact ! 

I  knew  she  hadn't  finished  her  story  yet  'cordin' 
ter  rule,  and  I  begun  to  think  that  for  once  she 
was  goin'  ter  forgit  about  it.  But  it  wa'n't  so. 
She  put  on  her  sun-bunnit  and  riz  up  to  go,  then 


4O  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

she  turned  round  to   me,  and   pintin'   her   finger 
very  impressive,  she  says, 

"  Ruth  Ann,  that  man  that  called  on  me  and 
marm  that  spring  mornin'  when  we  was  a-cleanin' 
greens  was  Gineral — George — \Vashiritoii  />l 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN   OLD  MAID.  4! 


SHE  FINDS  THE  COAL-MAN. 

SEQUEL  TO   "SHE   GOES  TO   BOSTON." 

You  remember  I  told  you  about  my  scrape 
with  that  coal-man,  last  Christmas,  when  I  was 
to  Boston  ?  How  I  made  him  take  me  to  the 
depot,  and  then  hadn't  a  cent  o'  money  to  pay 
him,  after  promisin'  to  reward  him  liberal,  too  !  I 
didn't  mean  no  harm  more'n  a  baby,  but  I  know  he 
thought  I  was  a  swindlin',  lyin'  woman,  goin'  round 
loose  a-gittin'  my  livin'  by  workin'  onto  folkses 
feeliris',  and  .stealin'  rides  out  o'  poor  coal-men  ! 
He  hadn't  no  means  o'  knowin'  the  truth  o'  the 
matter,  you  see,  and  it  did  look  bad — it  looked 
aginst  me,  that's  a  fact.  It  would  'a'  been  easy 
enough  to  set  the  matter  right,  if  I'd  only  re 
membered  the  feller's  address,  but  I  give  up 
tryin'  to  clew  that  long  ago  ;  twa'n't  no  kind  o' 
use.  I'd  settled  it  in  my  mind,  though,  that  some 
time,  pretty  soon  tew,  I  must  hunt  up  that  coal 
man  and  have  a  settlement.  But  how  to  dew  it 
and  where  to  begin — that  was  the  question.  I 
thought  it  over'n'  over  till  I  was  jest  about  crazy. 
I  couldn't  eat  nor  sleep,  and  mother  she  begun  to 
worry  about  me  and  dose  me  with  all  kinds  o' 
herbs  and  doctor's  stuff.  I  took  'em  ter  please 
her,  but  /  knew  it  wouldn't  do  no  good.  It  was 
my  mind  that  was  'fected.  This  is  the  way  things 
was  with  me,  when  I  got  a  letter  from  Jack  and 


42  ADVENTURES   OF  AN  OLD   MAID. 

Minty  tellin'  me  that  they  had  moved  into  Boston, 
and  urgin'  me  to  come  down  right  off  and  make 
a  good  long  visit.  I  said  to  once,  "Mother,  it's  a 
providence  ;  I'll  go  !  Novv's  my  time,  and  Minty 
will  help  me."  So  I  got  ready  as  quick's  I  could 
and  started. 

Minty  met  me  to  the  depot,  and  the  fust  words 
she  said  was, 

"  Aunt  Ruth,  what  under  the  canopy  is  the 
matter  with  ye  ?  You  look  as  if  you'd  had  a  fit 
o'  sickness  !  Have  you  been  sick  ?" 

"  No,  Minty,  I  hain't,"  says  I,  "  but  there's 
other  troubles  in  this  world  as  wearin'  as  sick 
ness." 

"  For  pity's  sake,  what  do  you  mean  ?"  says  she  ; 
and  then  I  told  her. 

"  It's  that  coal-man  that's  wearin'  me  away  to  a 
shadder,  and  nothin'  else,"  says  I.  '  It's  quiet  up 
home,  you  know,  and  likely  enough  my  mind's 
dwelt  on  the  subjeck  more'n  what's  reasonable  or 
nateral ;  't  any  rate,  all  I've  done  lately  is  jest  to 
think,  think,  night  and  day,  about  how  I  cheated 
that  poor  feller  !  And  now  I've  come  to  Boston, 
and  I'm  goin'to  find  him,  and  have  a  settlement 
with  him  if  it  costs  fifty  dollars /"  says  I,  "and 
Minty,  you've  got  to  promise  to  help  me,  or 'less 
I'll  go  'n'  get  somebody  that  will  !"  says  I,  and 
then  I  bust  out  cryin'.  Minty  laughed,  and  hug 
ged  me  agin.  "Cheer  up,"  she  says  ;  "  we'll  have 
that  old-fashioned  conscience  o'  yourn  out  o' 
misery  in  no  time  !  The  coal-man  shall  be  found, 
if  we  have  to  turn  Boston  inside  out  and  hind 
side  afore  to  do  it,"  says  she. 

Minty's  better  for  me  than  a  bottle  o'  medicine 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  43 

any  day,  and  she  chippered  me  right  up,  so't  I 
felt  more  like  myself  than  I  had  for  a  good  while. 

Wall,  the  next  day,  when  I'd  got  rested  a  little, 
Minty  and  I  talked  the  matter  over,  and  we 
concluded  that  the  fust  thing  for  us  to  do  was  to 
advertise.  So  she  writ  a  piece  and  sent  it  to  the 
newspapers. 

"That'll  fetch  him,"  says  she,  "if  he  can  read 
and  ever  looks  at  a  paper ;  but  in  the  mean  time 
we'll  keep  our  eyes  open.  He  may  turn  up 
when  we  ain't  expectin'." 

From  that  day  for'ard  it  seemed  as  if  I  didn't 
think  o'  nothin'  but  my  coal-man.  Jack  said 
how't  I'd  got  the  monomanier;  but  I  Knew  better, 
and  told  him  so.  Nothin'  in  this  world  ailded  me, 
and  I  should  be  all  right  soon's  this  business  was 
off  my  mind. 

The  fust  time  I  went  on  the  street,  I  come 
pretty  nigh  gittin'  killed  myself,  or  killin'  some 
body  else,  a  number  o'  times.  You  see  my  eyes 
was  everywheres  to  once,  but  mostly  in  the  road, 
lookin'  out  for  coal  carts ;  and  every  one  I  spied,  I 
generally  made  a  dive  back'ards  or  for'ards  to  git 
a  sight  o'  the  driver's  face,  ye  know.  And  it 
wa'n't  a  safe  way  to  dew  in  a  crowded  street,  by 
no  means. 

Once  I  run  into  a  man,  and  jabbed  a  stool  he 
was  carryin'  right  into  his  stummuck,  so'st  he 
bellered  out,  and  everybody  turned  round  and 
stared. 

"Old  lady,"  says  he,  "mind  where  you're  goin' 
tew,  can't  yer?  Ain't  there  room  for  me  and  you 
too  on  this  'ere  sidewalk  ?"  Some  laughed,  and 
I  felt  cheap  enough. 


44  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

Another  time  I  walked  straight  into  a  lady's 
face  and  eyes,  my  gaze  bein'  fixed  ahead  in  the 
road,  on  a  coal  cart  jest  heavin'  in  sight.  I 
bumped  square  into  her  face,  and  her  spe'tacles 
fell  off.  She  dropped  her  puss  and  let  go  of  the 
string  that  was  hitched  onto  her  poodle  dog,  and 
I  lost  my  bag ;  so  we  had  to  paw  round  quite  a 
spell  afore  we  got  right  side  up  agin. 

I  pollygized  as  well's  I  knew  how,  and  asked 
her  if  I  couldn't  do  somethin'  to  kinder  bring  her 
tew  and  make  her  feel  better. 

She  was  leanin'  up  aginst  a  store  winder,  and 
she  jest  put  up  her  hand  to  fix  her  spe'tacles  onto 
her  nose  more  firm,  then  she  looked  me  over 
carmly,  and  says  she,  "How  very  peculiar!" 

I  was  awful  mad  !  If  she'd  jawed  and  scolded 
I  wouldn't  'a'  cared ;  but  to  have  her  treat  me  as 
if  I  was  a  menagery  or  some  sort  of  a  curiosity 
• — I  couldn't  stan'  it ! 

"  Marm,"  says  I,  "p'r'aps  you'd  be  'peculiar' 
yourself  if  you  had  a  hull  city  full  o'  coal-men  to 
look  after  !"  says  I. 

That  made  her  stare  all  the  more  insultin',  and 
T  went  off  and  left  her  standin'  there  as  if  she's 
parilized.  I  dunno  but  what  she  stands  there 
yit.  I  don't  care  a  snap  if  she  does  ! 

But  that  wa'n't  a  circumstance  to  what  I  come 
tew  another  time.  Minty  and  me  went  one  af 
ternoon  to  a  concert  in  the  Music  Hall.  We 
thought  it  would  rest  us  and  do  us  good  ;  and 
anybody'd  think  I  wouldn't  be  sech  a  fool  as  to 
look  for  a  coal-man  there  ! 

I  set  through  the  fust  half  o'  the  concert ;  the 
music  wa'n't  very  interestin'  to  me — too  high- 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN~  OLD  MAID.  45 

toned  I  s'pose.  I  don't  like  this  kilter-skitter 
music  ;  I  like  somethin'  with  a  time  to  it,  if  it'3 
nothin'  more'n  "  Yanky  Doodle."  Wall,  as  I  was 
a-sayin',  I  didn't  feel  interested  in  the  music,  and 
so  I  got  to  thinkin'  and  wonderin'  about  my  coal 
man  ;  when  all  to  once  a  man  right  in  front  on  us 
had  a  little  coughin'  spell,  and  turned  his  head 
round  so't  I  could  see  his  face.  I  grabbed  Min- 
ty's  arm. 

"  Minty,"  I  whispered,  "  there's  my  man — • 
there  !" 

She  looked  where  \  pinted,  and  says  she : 
44  Aunt  Ruth,  you're  crazy  !  That  man  is  a  gentle' 
man;  he  looks  like  a  Beacon  Street  swell!  Do 
be  quiet !"  says  she. 

"  He's  the  feller  I  rid  on  the  dbal  cart  with, 
anyway,"  says  I,  "or  'less  he's  a  twin  !  And  I'm 
goin'  to  speak  to  him  after  this  show  is  over, 
sure's  my  name  is  Ruth  !" 

"How  foolish!"  says  Minty.  "'Tain't  very 
likely  coal-men  make  a  business  o'  washin'  up 
and  puttin'  on  their  kid  gloves  and  goin'  to  con 
certs  right  in  the  middle  o'  the  day  !"  says  she. 

But  there  I  set  and  looked  at  him  ;  and  the  more 
I  looked  the  more  sartin  I  felt  that  he  was  the 
very  man.  Every  featur'  of  his  face  looked 
nateral.  "  Who  knows  but  what  he's  had  a  for 
tune  left  to  him  ?"  says  I  to  myself.  "  Stranger 
things  have  happened."  So  when  the  concert 
was  over,  I  jest  pushed  my  way  'longside  of  him, 
and  laid  my  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,"  says  I,  all  of  a  tremble,  "  but 
ain't  you  the  coal-man  that  carried  me  to  the 
depo'  one  day  'bout  Christmas  time  last  year  ?" 


40  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

The  man  drawed  back  a  little,  and  looked  at 
me  serious  and  inqurin'.  I  was  awful  scairt,  but 
he  didn't  speak,  and  I's  bound  I'd  make  hirr  Sn 
I  follers  on,  and  says  I  : 

"  Mebby  you've  had  a  fortune  left  ye — it  looks 
like  it — and  if  so,  I'm  glad  on't ;  but  you  needn't 
be  ashamed  to  remember  doin'  a  kind  act,  and  I 
want  to  thank  you  and  relieve  my  mind,  all  the 
same,  if  you  don't  need  my  money  now,"  says  I. 

We  was  half  way  out  by  this  time,  and  he 
seemed  to  have  got  his  mind  made  up  about  me  ; 
for  he  turns  to  me  and  says,  very  serious  and  re- 
speckful, 

"  Madam,  you  are  laborin'  under  a  misappre 
hension.  But  I  beg  you  to  take  this,  and  when 
you  find  the  honest  coal-man  that  does  me  the 
honor  to  resemble  me  so  close,  will  you  give  i\ 
to  him  from  me  ?" 

Them  was  his  very  words ;  and  dropping  a 
twenty-dollar  gold  piece  into  my  hand,  he  lifted 
his  hat  way  offn  his  head,  as  if  I'd  been  the 
queen,  and  walked  on. 

I  looked  at  the  money  and  wondered  whuther 
no  I  wa'n't  dreamin'.  Minty  she  ketched  hold  of 
me  and  hauled  me  away  and  downstairs,  quick's 
she  could.  "  Oh,  Aunt  Ruth  !"  says  she,  half 
:ryin',  "what  have  you  done  ?" 

"  I  dunno  what  I've  done,"  says  I.  "  But  if 
that  high  and  lordly  feller  ain't  a  twin  to  my  coal 
man,  I'll  eat  him." 

"That  man,"  says  Minty,  "is  the  richest  man 
m  New  England !  I  knew  him  the  minute  I  see 
his  face." 

"  Oh,  wall,  if  he's  so  terrible  rich,  I'm  glad  on't," 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  47 

says  I,  "  bein's  he  won't  never  miss  the  money  he 
give  me,  and  it'll  be  quite  a  fortune  to  my  coal 
man  when  I  find  him."  I  walked  on,  tryin'  to 
feel  as  bold  as  a  lion,  but  I  didn't — I  felt  like 
death  ;  and  I  guess  Minty  knew  it,  for  she  never 
said  another  word  about  it. 

After  this  I  kep'  pretty  quiet  fora  while — only 
I  run  into  a  peanut-stand  one  day,  and  had  to  pay 
a  dollar  and  a  half  damages  ;  and  once  I  chased  a 
coal-cart  till  I  was  clean  beat  out,  and  had  to  hire 
a  coach  to  carry  me  home. 

But  the  vvust  on't  was,  I  was  gittin'  all  discour 
aged,  and  I  was  willin'  to  own  at  last  that  I  had 
got  the  monomamer,  or  a  touch  on't,  anyway ; 
and  finally  I  consented  to  let  'em  call  in  the 
doctor. 

He  said  how't  my  sistem  needed  toniri  -up,  and 
left  me  some  medicine.  I  took  the  medicine 
faithful,  but  I  knew,  and  Minty  knew  too,  that  I 
shouldn't  ever  git  toned  up  right  till  I  found  that 
pesky  coal-man. 

Our  advertisin'  didn't  amount  to  shucks.  A 
few  smutty-faced,  lyin'  fellers  called  on  us,  ex- 
pectin'  to  make  somethin'  out  on't,  I  s'pose  ;  but 
we  wa'n't  so  easy  took  in,  and  they  went  away  as 
poor  as  they  come. 

One  day  Minty  showed  in  a  young  Irishman. 
He  come  bowin'  and  scrapin'  up  to  the  table 
where  I  set  sewin',  threw  down  his  old  hat,  and 
put  out  his  black  paw  with  a  flourish,  as  if  he  was 
tickled  to  death  to  see  me. 

"  Be  me  sowl,"  says  he,  "  if  it  isn't  the  idcntikle 
old  lady  herself,  now  .  I  knew  ye  as  quick  as  I 
:.'t  me  two  eyes  on  ye  !" 


4^  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

"  Singular,"  says  I,  cool's  could  be — for  I'd  got 
used  to  'em,  you  know-—"  singular,  but  I  never 
^Q  you  afore,"  says  I. 

"  Oh,  now,"  says  he,  coaxin'  like,  "ye  wouldn't 
be  afther  forgittin'  so  aisy.  Think,  now,  how 
would  it  be,  say,  barrin'  the  baird  and  t"he  short 
cut  o'  me  hair  for  the  hot  weather  ?"  says  he. 

"Bar  as  much  as  you're  min'  to,"  says  I,  "  but 
if  you'll  stop  your  blarney  and  tell  me  what  you 
want,  I'll  be  obleeged  to  ye." 

He  seemed  all  struck  of  a  heap  for  a  minute, 
and  then  says  he,  "An'  didn't  ye  advertise  for  the 
young  man  as  driv'  ye  ter  the  depo'  on  his  coal- 
cart  last  Christmas  ?" 

"  I  did,"  says  I.     - 

"  And  isn't  it  mesilf  as  is  the  very  feller  ?"  says 
he,  slappin'  his  knee  and  lookin'  up  as  bold  as 
ibrass  agin. 

"  Now  I  think  on't,  I  dunno  but  you  be,"  says 
I — -"yes,  I  guess  you're  the  feller;  and  I  s'pose 
you've  come  to  pay  over  that  five  dollars  I  lent 
you,"  says  I,  and  I  riz  up  and  held  out  my  hand 
to  him. 

You  orter  seen  that  man  !  He  looked  all  ways 
to  once,  and  everywheres  but  at  me ;  then  he 
picks  up  his  old  hat  in  a  hurry,  and  says  he, 

"  It's  mistaken   I  am  now,  intirely !     It's  not 

mesilf  at   all — I   mane — it's   not — it's  not  your- 

'/.'    » 
silj  — 

"  Oh  yes,  it  is,"  says  I,  cuttin'  him  short.  "  It's 
my  self,  but  it's  not  your  self!"  So  sayin',  I 
topened  the  door  and  he  blundered  out  and  off. 

This  was  only  one  of  quite  a  number  of  experi 
ences  we  went  through,  and  all  for  nothin'.  No 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  49 

great  wonder  I  had  the  monomanier,  was  it  ?  It 
was  a  mercy  Minty  didn't  git  it  fastened  on  to 
her,  too.  She  did  come  dretful  nigh  it. 

But  there's  an  end  o'  some  kind  to  all  things ; 
and  there  is  to  this  story,  as  you'll  see,  bimeby. 

One  mornin'  Minty  come  to  me  after  breakfast 
and  says,  "  Aunt  Ruth,  Jack  is  goin'  to  be  away 
a  few  days,  and  while  he's  gone  you  and  me'll 
give  a  party — a  coal-man  s  party.  We'll  advertise 
in  every  way  we  can  for  two  days,  and  on  Thurs 
day  we'll  hold  the  recepshun  in  our  basement. 
We'll  have  lemonaid,  and  donuts,  and  sandwidges 
enough  for  all  the  coal-men  in  town.  What  do 
you  think  on't  ?"  says  she. 

I  was  so  struck  with  the  idee  that  I  didn't 
breathe  for  much  as  a  minute  ! 

"  Minty  !  you're  a  genyus  !"  says  I.  "  It's  jest 
the  thing !" 

So  we  set  right  about  it.  It  was  awful  hot 
weather,  and  it  stood  to  reason  that  no  hard- 
workin'  coal-man  would  miss  a  chance  o'  gittin'  a 
good  lunch  and  a  cool  drink  o'  lemonaid,  free 
gratis  for  nothin'.  "That  must  fetch  hin.  " 
thinks  I,  and  I  felt  encouraged.  The  advertise 
ment  run  this  way  : 

"  FREE  LUNCH  TO  COAL-MEN  !  AT  NO.  35  CLAY 
STREET  (BASEMENT),  FROM   11  A.M.  TO 
i  O'CLOCK.     COME  ONE,  COME  ALL  !" 

I  asked  Minty  what  she  s'posed  the  neighbors 
would  think,  when  they  see  the  doin's.  She  said 
she  didn't  care  what  they  thought ;  but  they'd 
probaly  think  we's  exsentrick.  and  took  that  way 


5O  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

o'  doin'  good.     It  was  fashnerable  to  be  exsen 
trick. 

When  the  time  come,  it  was  well  vvuth  all  our 
trouble  jest  to  see  'em  ;  and  if  it  hadn't  'a'  been 
for  my  monomanier  we  sh'd  had  lots  o'  fun  out 
on't. 

There  was  a  line  o'  coal-carts  standin'  up  and 
down  our  street  as  fur  as  you  could  see  both 
ways,  and  them  fellers  kep'  a-pilin'  in  to  that 
basement,  as  business-like  as  you  please,  as  if,  for 
all  the  world,  it  was  an  every-day  thing  to  'em  ; 
and  they  scrambled  for  the  vittles  and  drunk  hull 
tubs  full  o'  lemonaid  as  if  it  did  'em  good.  I 
guess  it  did.  We  didn't  worry  none  about  that, 
anyway. 

Wall,  the  time  passed,  and  it  was  goin'  on 
two  o'clock,  and  amongst  all  them  smutty-faced 
fellers  I  hadn't  see  one  that  looked  like  my  coal 
man.  I  had  on  my  best  caliker  dress  and  I'd 
sp'ilt  it  long  ago, — they  slopt  the  lemonaid  round 
so, — and  Minty,  she'd  sp'ilt  hern  too;  but  we 
didn't  care  for  the  dresses,  we  was  so  disap- 
pinted.  I  was  'most  a-cryin',  but  I  kep'  round 
among  'em,  waitin'  on  'em  kinder  mecanikle, 
when  all  to  once  an  uproar  riz — loud  laughin' 
and  talkin',  and  jokin'  back  and  forth,  about 
somethin'  or  'nother,  we  couldn't  make  out  what. 
But  finally  we  diskivered  the  cause  on't. 

They  was  all  settin'  on  to  one  little  feller,  and 
when  we  inquired  into  it  they  laughed  and 
shouted,  and  said  hovv't  he'd  been  stuffin'  his 
pockits,  and  they  insisted  on't  that  he  should 
"shell  out,"  as  they  called  it,  'fore  they'd  let  him 
go. 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  51 

Minty  spoke  to  'em  in  her  pretty  way,  and 
begged 'em  to  remember  theie  was  ladies  present, 
and  behave  like  gentlemen.  They  simmered 
down  to  once,  then,  and  Minty  went  to  the  little 
feller  and  spoke  real  kind.  "  Can't  you  eat 
enough?"  says  she.  "What  makes  you  fill  your 
pockits  ?  The  rest  don't  do  so." 

He  looked  sheepish  for  a  minute,  and  then  he 
spunked  up,  and  says  he,  "  Yes,  marm,  I've  had 
enough  myself,  and  thank  ye  kindly  for't ;  but  I 
thought  as  how  'twouldn't  be  no  harm  to  carry 
some  ter  Jim — Jim  Rasher — he's  sick,  ye  know  ; 
and  he  hain't  got  nobody  but  me  to  look  out  for 
him,  he  hain't." 

Of  course  we  was  interested  to  once,  and  asked 
a  good  many  questions ;  and  Minty  told  the  boy 
to  wait  till  the  others  was  gone,  and  then  she  put 
up  a  baskit  o'  things  for  him  to  take  along  to  his 
friend. 

While  she  was  talkin'  I  was  a-thinkin'.  I  says 
to  myself,  "  You'd  better  go  'n'  see  this  sick  man  ; 
mebby  it  '11  ease  your  mind  to  dew  for  some  coal 
man  if  you  can't  for  the  right  one."  So  I  run  up 
stairs,  put  on  my  bunnit,  clapped  my  puss  into 
my  pockit,  and  was  ready  and  waitin'  when  he 
come  out  with  his  baskit.  We  went  along  to 
gether,  and — wall,  I  may  as  well  tell  ye  now — 1 
found  my  coal-man  ! 

He  was  sick,  sure  enough.  And  he  lay  in  a 
miserble  room,  on  a  miserble  bed,  and  the  flies 
was  eatin'  on  him  up,  and  there  wa'n't  no  air  in  the 
room  fit  to  breathe,  and  he  was  tossin'  and  moan- 
in',  burnt  up  with  fever. 

Somethin'  told  me  I   had  found  him  afore   I 


52  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

fairly  see  his  face  ;  and  when  I  went  up  to  him 
and  laid  my  cool  hand  onto  his  head,  he  knew  me 
too.  He  looked  at  me  for  a  minute  in  that 
stoopid,  stunned  way  o'  hisn — I  remembered  it 
perfeckly — but  he  knew  me,  and  his  great,  honest 
eyes  kinder  smiled,  though  his  mouth  was  so  sol- 
lum,  and  he  says, 

"Old  lady,  is  it  you?"  I  couldn't  speak  to 
once,  if  I  died,  but  I  opened  the  baskit,  and  got 
him  out  some  grapes,  and  sent  the  boy  for  some 
cool  water,  so  I  could  bathe  his  head.  Bimeby  I 
told  him  how  I  felt  when  I  found  I'd  forgot  his 
address,  and  how  I'd  worried  ever  sence  ;  how  I'd 
hunted  for  him,  and  about  the  free  lunch  and 
everything.  "  And,  now,"  says  I,  "  I  wanLyou  to 
cheer  right  up,  for  I'm  goin'  to  send  you  a  doc 
tor,  and  we'll  have  you  well  in  no  time.  Is  the 
old  white  horse  alive  and  well  ?"  says  I. 

Upon  this  he  smiled  bright's  a  button. 

"  Yes,  marm,"  says  he,  "  the  old  mare's  all 
right,  thank  ye." 

"  Wall,"  says  I,  pretty  soon,  "I  must  leave  ye 
now.  Ain't  there  some  woman  we  can  git  to 
come  and  stay  with  you  a  spell,  and  nuss  you 
up?" 

He  picked  at  the  bedclo'es  and  looked  foolish  ; 
but  finally  I  managed  to  make  out  that  there  was 
a  girl  he  was  a-goin'  to  marry,  that  would  be  glad 
to  come,  but  she  didn't  even  know  he  was  sick 
yet. 

So  the  little  feller — his  friend — and  me,  we 
went  away  together  and  hunted  up  the  girl  and 
her  mother.  The  girl's  name  was  Berlindy,  and 
she  seemed  dretful  fond  of  him.  Wall,  I  left  'em 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  53 

some    money,  and  went   home   to  Mint?-     She 
was  wonderful  excited  over  it. 

"  Our  'free  lunch '  was  a  success,  after  all !'"' 
says  she,  and  we  went  to  bed  that  night,  two 
happy  wimmin,  if  we  was  all  tuckered  out. 

The  rest  is  soon  told.  We  kep'  an  eye  on  Jim 
iRasher,  and  after  a  while  Jack  give  him  a  place 
'in  his  own  office,  and  Minty  took  Berlindy  intc 
the  house  as  a  servant. 

When  they  was  married,  we  heip^d  fit  'em  out, 
and  among  other  things  I  give  Jim  the  twenty- 
dollar  gold  piece,  ard  the  man's  message  alonp 
with  it. 

He  looked  more  stoopid  and  stunned  than  I'd 
ever  seen  him  afore ;  but  Berlindy  she  wa'n't 
flustered  a  mite.  She  swallered  it  all,  and  more 
tew.  She  tossed  up  her  head,  and  says  she,  "  I 
should  like  ter  see  the  man  that  can  hold  a  candle 
to  my  Jecmes  for  good  looks,  if  he  is  a  milling 
oair  1" 


54  ADVENTURES   OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 


WRITING  FOR  THE  NEWSPAPERS. 

I've  had  curi's  experiences  sence  I  begun  to 
write  for  the  papers. 

The  nabors  got  hold  on't,  somehow,  that  I  was 
a  writin',  and  it  was  queer  enough  to  see  how  the 
different  ones  took  it. 

Old  gran'marm  McGilvry,  she  was  the  fust  to 
come  to  interview  me.  She's  a  reg'lar  old  gos 
sip,  but  she  alwers  'peared  to  think  well  o'  me. 
She  begun  before,  she  fairly  got  her  bunnit  off. 

"  Ruth  Ann,"  says  she,  "  I'm  glad  to  hear  that 
you're  a  doin'  somethin'  oncommon  ;  and  I  say  if 
you  behave  yourself,  'tain't  anybody's  business  if 
you  dew  write  for  the  papers,  and  /  say  if  folks 
are  a  min'  ter  talk,  why  let  'em  talk!" 

My  nighest  nabor,  Mis'  Carter — she's  a  little 
narvous,  sensitive  thing — she  come  over  in  a 
peck  o'  trouble,  and  says  she, 

"  Ruth  Ann,  there's  one  thing  I  hope  and  pray 
you  won't  never  do,  and  that  is,  to  put  your  na 
bors  into  your  pieces  ;  if  you  do,  it'll  make  no 
end  o'  trouble.  Now  I've  alwers  told  you  every 
thing  about  me  and  my  husband,  and  about  Mary 
and  her  beau — you  know  how  I've  confided  in 
you,  Ruth  Ann — and  if  you  go  to  puttin'  on't  in 
print,  I  declare  I  don't  know  what  I  shall  do  !" 

She  was  almost  cryin'  and  I  felt  bad  for  her. 

"  La,  Mis'  Carter,"  says  I,  "don't  you  be  one 
mite  afeared.  I  hain't  no  notion  o'  doin'  any  sech 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  55 

thing.  I  reckon  I  can  find  enough  to  write  about 
without  betrayin'  my  nabor's  sekrits  ;  when  I  can't 
I'll  give  it  up,"  says  I. 

She  wiped  her  eyes  then  and  felt  better.  "  1 
might  a  known,"  she  said  laughin',  "  but  that's  the 
way  some  o'  them  writers  do." 

"  It's  awful  small  business,"  says  I. 

"  That's  so,"  says  she. 

Next,  Amandy  Plimpton  come  drivin'  over  pell- 
mell.  She  had  a  great  big  sheet  o'  paper  kivered 
over  with  verses,  and  a  bran'-new  lead  pencil 
stuck  over  her  ear,  as  if  she  meant  business. 

She'd  been  writin'  poitry,  and  she  wanted  me 
to  read  it,  and  correct  it,  and  send  it  'long  with 
my  next  piece  to  the  newspaper  man.  She  said 
she'd  leave  the  matter  o'  compensation  entirely  to 
the  editor. 

She  was  all  up  and  a  comin',  as  you  might  say, 
and  I  had  to  set  right  down  and  read  it  ;  I  went 
through  it  two  or  three  times  careful  and  candid, 
but  I  couldn't  make  no  head  nor  tail  to  it,  and 
finally  give  it  up. 

"Amandy,"  says  I,  "  I  guess  it's  good  poitry, 
but  I'm  afraid  it  ain't  'available'  Mind  ye, 
Amandy,  that  ain't  sayin'  a  word  aginst  it,  only  it 
ain't  just  what  they  want." 

"How  do  you  kow 'tain't?"  says  she.  "See 
here,  you  needn't  be  afraid  I'll  put  your  nose  out 
o'  jint ;  you  don't  write  poitry — don't  pertend  to 
—do  ye  ?" 

"  Oh,  no  ;  I  don't,  that's  a  fact,"  says  I  laughin', 

'  and,  what's  more,  I  ain't  no  judge  o'  poitry.      1 

have  to  scratch  my  head  a  good  while  sometimes 

Tore  I  can  make  out  what  the  best  on't  means; 


$6  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID, 

but  as  long  as  you  would  have  my  'pinion  I  had 
to  say  somethin'." 

"  Of  course  you  ain't  to  blame  for  not  bein' 
able  to  'predate  poitry,"  says  Amandy,  real  con 
siderate,  "  and  I  guess  I'll  consult  some  fust  class 
poet,  and  then  I  shall  know." 

'Cordinly  she  sent  it  to  Mr.  Whittler,  and  in 
the  course  of  a  week  it  come  back,  and  a  real 
nice  note  'long  with  it,  sayin'  that  he  couldn't 
thank  her  enough  for  the  pleasure  o'  readin'  on't, 
but  suggestin'  that  editors  was  the  best  judges  o' 
poitry.  So  she  posted  it  right  off  to  the  Bang- 
town  Magazine,  and  waited  on  tiptoe  for  the 
answer. 

If  you'll  believe  it,  them  verses  was  sent  back 
to  her  with  the  solitary,  single  word  "  trash''  writ 
on  top  of  'em,  and  that  was  all.  Oh,  how  mad 
she  was  !  She  says  to  me,  says  she,  "Trash"  be 
they  !  Them  verses  that  thrilled  me  through  and 
through  to  write,  and  make  creepers  up  and  down 
my  spine  to  read 7  Oh,  the  wretches  ! 

Listen  to  these  "  Lines  to  James  Henry."  She 
read  the  fust  verse  : 

"  When  I  am  dead  and  in  my  grave, 

Oh  weep  not  for  Amandy  ; 
Some  other  girl  you'll  probaly  find, 
There's  plenty  standin'  handy." 

"  Now,  Ruth  Ann,  even  you  can  see  that  that 
is  touchin' — thrillin'." 

"  Yes,"  says  I,  "  ondoubtedly ;  but  them  edi 
tors  is  a  tough  lot,  with  backbones  of  iron  and 
narves  of  steel.  They  don't  thrill  wuth  a  cent. 
But  come,  never  mind,  Mandy,  let's  work  on  our 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  57 

crazy  quilts,"  says  I,  tryin'  to  divert  her  mind,  as 
it  were.  But  she  didn't  seem  to  hear  me,  and 
read  right  on.  "  Ruth  Ann,"  says  she  to  me 
when  she  got  through,  "if  that  'ere  ain't  real 
poitry  I'll  eat  it!  Look  at  the  sentimunt  !" 

"Why,  yes,"  says  I  again,  "and  I'm  sure  it 
must  be  real  comfortin'  to  James  Henry.  It  re 
minds  me  somehow  of  the  little  verse  we  used  to 
write  in  our  books  to  school  ;  don't  you  remem 
ber  ? 


"  'When  I  am  dead  and  in  my 

And  all  my  bones  are  rotten, 
This  little  book  shall  tell  my  name 
When  I  am  quite  forgotten.' 

*  i  should  say  your'n  was  fully  equal  to  that, 
and  you  know  what  a  run  that  had." 

"Equal  to  that  /"  snapped  Amandy  all  out  o' 
patience  ;  "what's  the  use  o'  talkin'  to  you  —  you 
don't  know  abserlutely  no  thin  about  poitry,  and 
that  ends  it  !" 

"  I'm  afraid  you're  correck,"  says  I,  real  'umble. 
"  I  never  wrote  but  one  verse  in  my  life,  and  that 
was  to  the  man  that  was  gittin'  up  a  book  o'  Ne"r 
Hampshire  poets.  He  kept  sendin'  and  askin 
me  to  contribute  somethin'.  I  told  him  1 
couldn't  ;  I  didn't  write  verses  ;  but  he  hung  on 
till  I  finally  got  mad  and  sent  him  this  : 

"'I  ain't  no  poit, 

And  now  you  know  it.' 

That  seemed  to  satisfy  him." 

Cousin  Safrony,  she  told  me  that  they  talked 
my  pieces  all  over  to  the  mother's  meetin',  and 


58  ADVENTURES   OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

then  agin  to  the  sewin'  circle,  and  some  said  one 
thing  and  some  another. 

The  Square's  wife  used  to  be  a  school-teacher, 
and  she  said  how  it  wasn't  nothin'  to  write  for  the 
papers ;  she'd  got  stacks  o'  manuscrip'  put  away 
up  garret  that  she  made  up  herself.  She  never 
had  none  on't  published — felt  delekit  about  it- 
thought  it  required  a  good  deal  o'  cheek  for  a 
woman  to  'pear  before  the  public  in  print.  But 
the  Square  often  remarked  that  "that  manuscrip' 
would  be  a  mint  o'  money  to  somebody  sometime." 

"  But  I'll  bet  a  cookey,"  says  Safrony  to  me, 
'•  that  it  wouldn't  fetch  more'n  the  wuth  of  its 
<veight  for  paper  rags!"  "And  now,"  she  con 
tinued,  "  I'm  goin'  to  tell  you  somethin'  in  con 
fidence  that  I  never  told  no  livin'  mortal  before  ! 
I've  been  thinkin'  lately  whuther  or  no  /  hadn't 
orter  go  into  this  writin'  business  myself ! 

"  Why,  ever  sence  I  can  remember  I've  laid 
awake  hours  and  hours,  makin'  up  stories  and 
sermons,  and  all  sorts  of  things — in  the  dead  d 
the  nigJit !  Ain't  that  the  way  you  dew  ?" 

"  Ketch  me  lay  in'  awake  nights !"  says  I, 
latighin'.  "  No  ;  I  make  a  regular  business  o' 
sleepin',  and  tend  right  to  it  every  night." 

Safrony  looked  astonished.  "  Is  that  so  ?"  she 
says;  "you're  the  fust  writer  I  ever  heard  on  that 
did  !  But  there's  one  thing  I  s'pose  you  all  have 
to  dew ;  that  is,  live  on  fish  mostly — to  feed  your 
brains  ?" 

"No,  /don't,"  says  I,  "and,  what's  more,  I 
wouldn't  if  my  brains  starved  to  death.  I  can't 
bear  fish,  and  never  eat  it  when  I  can  git  any 
thing  else." 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  59 

"  Wall,  I  must  say,"  says  Safrony  turnin'  up 
her  nose,  "that  you  ain't  much  of  a  writer  if  you 
don't  do  no  different  from  other  folks." 

"  Oh  wall,"  says  I,  laughin',  "  I  ain't  much  of 
a  writer  ;  nothin'  'larmin'." 

Mis'  Gardner  was  the  only  o;ie  that  seemed  to 
feel  real  malice  toward  me.  What  does  she  do, 
but  carry  one  o'  my  pieces  to  the  litterary  circle, 
and  read  it  loud,  and  then  pass  it  round  'mong 
the  company  so's  they  could  see  how  many  mis 
takes  in  spellin'  there  was  in  it.  She'd  marked 
'em  all  off,  and  it  was  pretty  much  all  marks,  I 
tell  ye. 

Safrony  was  bound  she'd  stick  up  for  me,  so 
when  they  handed  it  to  her  she  says, 

"  Good  land,  I  don't  s'pose  them  newspaper 
men  care  how  its  spelt  if  it  only  makes  sense." 

"  I  should  think  they'd  correctify  it  before  they 
printed  it,"  says  the  deacon's  wife. 

"  Like  enough  they  don't  know  how  to  spell 
over  and  above  well  themselves,"  says  Mis'  Gard 
ner,  pinchin'  in  her  lips.  "  I  guess  they  never 
won  no  dictionaries  to  spellin'  matches." 

While  they  was  laughin'  the  Square's  wife 
come  in,  and  they  showed  her  the  piece. 

"  Good  gracious,  how  stoopid  you  all  be  !"  she 
said  when  she'd  read  it.  "  Ruth  Ann  spells  that 
way  a  purpose,  and  if  she  don't  spell  bad  enough 
I'll  warrant  the  editors  puts  on  the  finishin' 
touches  themselves  !  Poor  spellin'  is  all  the  fash 
ion  now,"  says  she. 

They  felt  pretty  well  took  down  then,  and 
didn't  say  another  word  ;  for  the  Square's  wife  is 
law  and  gospil  among  'em  you  know 


60  ADVENTURED    ^s    AN  OLD  MAID. 

Safrony  asked  me  if  I  didn't  never  write 
nothin'  and  spell  it  all  correck. 

"  Sometimes,"  I  told  her,  "  but  it's  pretty  diffi- 
kilt,  and  I  have  to  keep  a  dictionary  open  before 
me  every  minit.  I've  spelt  rong  so  long  that  it 
don't  come  handy  to  spell  rite"  says  I. 

"Then  while  you're  about  it  why  don't  you 
spell  wussf  There's  Joshua  Billin's  and  Mister 
Nasby  now — you  don't  begin  to  spell  as  bad  as 
they  dew." 

"  Oh  no,"  says  I,  "  but  their  spellin'  makes 
anybody  feel  crampy  all  over  ;  it  ain't  comfort 
able.  I  don't  want  to  do  nothin'  to  hurt.  I  jest 
lay  out  to  amuse  folks  in  a  comfortable  kind  of  a 
way.  And  besides/'  says  I,  "  I  don't  depend  alto- 
gether  on  my  spellin',  I  generally  put  in  a  few 
idees? 

•'  Oh,  I  didn't  think  o'  that,"  says  Safrony,  "  I 
guess  that's  what  makes  your  pieces  take  so  well." 

I  thought  it  was  real  nice  in  Safrony  to  stick 
up  for  me  after  I'd  made  light  o'  her  layin'  awake 
nights  and  so  on,  but  Safrony  and  me  was  always 
good  friends. 

Aunt  Polly  Davis  seemed  to  take  a  great  deal 
of  pride  in  me  at  fust.  "Jest  to  think,"  says  she, 
"that  we  should  go  and  have  an  author  in  the 
family  after  all !  We've  had  a'  most  everything 
else,  and  now  we've  got  a  bonny  fidy  author  ! 
I'm  real  thankful,"  says  she,  "  and  I  dew  hope 
you'll  make  a  good  use  o'  your  money  !  Perhaps 
by'n  by  you'll  git  round  to  help  me  and  your  un 
cle  lift  that  pesky  mor'gage.  You  won't  hardly 
know  what  ter  do  with  so  much  money,  will 
ye?" 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  6 1 

I 

"  I  guess  it'll  be  a  spell  before  I'll  have  enough 

to  burden  me,"  says  I,  laughin'. 

"Why,  less  see,"  says  she,  "how  much  do  you 

git  for  a  piece  ?" 

"Oh,"  says  I,  "from  10  to  25  dollars." 

"  And  how  long  does  it  take  ye  to  write  one  ?" 

"  Oh,  when    I   git   fairly  at  it,  say  a  week  for 

the    longest    ones,    with    what    other    work     1 

do.     You  know  I  help  a  good  deal  round  the 

house." 

Aunt  Polly  took  a  piece  o'  paper  and  borrered 

my  pencil  and  set  right  down  to  it.     She  figgered 

it  out  somethin'  like  this, 

52  weeks  (year). 
25  dollars  (apiece). 

260 

104 

1300  per  year. 

"  My  senses !  Ruth  Ann,"  says  she,  "  it  can't 
be !  I  have  made  some  mistake !  You  look  it 
over  and  see  if  I've  multiplied  and  kerried  right. 
I  ain't  much  of  a.  hand  at  figgers." 

I  looked  it  over.  "  Your  conclusion  would  be 
correck  enough  if  your  premises  wan't  wrong, 
as  we  used  to  say  at  school,"  says  I. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  don't  actillv  earn  that 
much  money  a  year  ?" 

"  I  mean  that  I  aint  amac/izne,"  says  I.  "  You 
hain't  took  nothin'  into  consideration."  Then  I 
tried  to  explain  how  sometimes  I  couldn't  write 
at  all — the  idees  wouldn't  flow,  as  it  were — and 


62  ADVENTURES  Of  AN  OLD  MAID. 

then  agin,  how  some  pieces  wa'n't  available,  ar  ) 
so  on. 

She  looked  blank  enough.  "Oh,"  says  she, 
kinder  contemptewous,  "  it  seems  ter  be  a  dret« 
ful  onsartin'  business,  and  don't  amount  to  much 
after  all  I" 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  63 


SHE  GOES  TO  "  THE  GERMAN." 

Did  I  ever  tell  you  "bout  my  goin'  to  the 
German  that  winter  I  was  to  Sophiar's  ? 

Wall,  you  see  Snobtown  ain't  a  big  city.  1 
tell  'em  it  ain't  neither  one  thing  nor  t'other. 
It  seems  pretty  much  like  our  village  to  home, 
but  I  s'pose  there  is,  in  pint  o'  fact,  a  good 
many  more  houses  and  folks,  or  it  wouldn't  be 
called  a  city.  At  any  rate,  it's  enough  like  a 
city  ter  make  'em  want  to  dew  everything  any 
body  does,  and  so,  'cordin'ly,  they  have  "  Ger« 
mans." 

They  'low  that  nobody  goes  to  these  parties 
but  jest  the  very  "aleet"  (that's  French,  and 
means  big-bugs). 

James  and  Sophiar  don't  seern  to  feel  very  big, 
and  I  don't  know  exactly  what  constitoots  an 
"  aleet ;"  but  one  thing  is  sartin,  if  they  hadn't 
been  one  they  couldn't  'a'  gone  to  that  ere  "  Ger 
man"  and  took  me,  so  I'm  naterally  glad  the) 
was  considered  up  to  the  scratch. 

Wall,  when  we  got  there,  we  found  all  the 
ladies  in  the  dressin'  room  puttin'  on  their  white 
kid  gloves.  Some  on  'em  went  'way  up  to  theii 
elbows. 

But  there  was  one  o'  the  most  airy-lookin' 
ladies,  pertendin'  to  be  in  a  great  stew,  because 
she'd  left  her  gloves  to  home  ;  and  she  was  goin' 
round  tryin'  to  make  some  o'  the  other  ladies 
leave  off  them  to  keep  her  in  countenants. 


64  ADVENTURES  Of  Aft  OLD  MAID. 

She  came  to  Sophiar,  but  Sophiar,  says  she, 

"  /  wear  gloves  to  cover  my  hands — you  know 
I  do  my  own  work,  Mis'  Dainty ;  your  hands 
look  well  enough  without,  I'm  sure." 

This  seemed  to  please  the  lady,  and  she  had\\\t 
harnsomest  hand  and  arm  I  ever  seen  on  a  mortal 
woman.  I  kinder  suspicioned  she  planned  it  all 
to  show  'em,  too  James  said  afterwards  how  she 
might  'a'  spared  enough  ofT'n  the  tail  of  her  gown 
to  cover  her  hands  and  arms,  and  neck,  tew,  just 
as  well  as  not ! 

Speakin'  o'  trains,  hardly  any  o'  the  ladies  wore 
'em,  and  them  that  didn't,  seemed  to  have  a  par- 
ticklar  spite  agin  'em.  It  wa'n't  the  gentlemen 
that  complained  on  'em,  and  stepped  on  'em  most, 
I  noticed  that  pint 

Sophiar  introduced  me  to  a  slim,  genteel-look- 
in'  young  man,  with  a  red  rihbin  round  his  neck 
and  a  silver  whistle  hung  on  to  it.  He  was  their 
leader,  she  said,  and  pretty  soon  he  blew  his  whis 
tle  and  the  musicianers  struck  up  a  lively  waltz, 
and  all  the  gentlemen  rushed  to  the  door  o'  the 
dressin'  room,  took  their  ladies  on  their  arms  and 
went  into  the  ball. 

I  was  thankful  for  James's  arm  to  lean  on  to, 
for  the  floor  was  so  slippery  that  I  knew  I 
couldn't  V  walked  acrost  it  alone  to  save  my  life, 
to  say  nothin'  o'  dancing  on  sech  a  floor ;  I  don't 
see  how  they  ever  dew  it ! 

We  found  chairs  all  set  redy  for  us.  They  was 
mostly  tied  together  tew  by  tew  with  long  sashes 
o'  ribbin  of  different  colors.  We  all  set  down 
and  spread  out  our  dresses  and  looked  at  one 
'nother  a  spell ;  then  the  whistle  sounded  and 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MA  IP  65 

each  gentleman  took  his  pardner  in  his  arms  and 
begun  ter  spring  round  in  a  lively  waltz. 

Some  o'  the  dancers  looked  very  well,  and 
some  didn't.  There  was  one  little  feller  had  the 
cunninest  mite  of  a  girl  for  a  pardner.  I  heard 
him  call  her  "  Mamy."  They  looked  well  together, 
and  danced  like  two  feathers.  One  man  was 
dretful  tall,  and  stiff  as  a  ramrod  He  used  his 
legs  as  if  they  didn't  belong  to  mm,  and  his 
pardner  (she  was  his  wife),  she  looked  as  if  she 
didn't  belong  to  him,  nuther.  So  they  danced 
pretty  much  on  their  own  hook,  poppin'  this  way 
and  that,  any  way  to  get  round.  I  pitied  'em,  for 
it  must  'a'  been  hard  work  ;  but  they  seemed  ter 
be  tryin'  to  do  their  dooty,  anyway.  There  was 
another  feller,  a  medical  student,  Sophiar  said  he 
was,  that  I  couldn't  help  watchin',  he  went  into  't 
so  business-like.  He  didn't  turn  out  for  nobody 
nor  nothin',  but  dashed  right  ahead,  with  his 
mouth  open,  and  his  tongue  a-workin'  for  all  the 
world  like  a  boy  when  he's  learnin'  to  write. 

He  got  some  pretty  hard  knocks,  and  I  pitied 
his  pardner,  but  she  didn't  seem  to  mind.  I  s'pose 
she'd  got  used  to  it. 

It  was  queer  the  different  ^ays  they  had  of 
holdin'  on  to  one  'nother.  Some  stood  way  off, 
like  the  picter  of  the  Puritan  lovers  kissin'.  Some 
hugged  up  most  tew  tight,  I  thought,  and  some 
took  hold  o'  hands  and  held  'em  out  one  s'de, 
arm's  length,  and  took  up  more  room  than  be 
longed  to  'em.  Some  pumped  up  and  dowu  with 
their  elbows,  and  rocked  fust  one  side  and  then 
t'other ;  they  called  that  the  "  Boston  dtp" 

They  didn't   dance  long  to  begin  with,  and  J 


66  ADVENTURES  OF  AN   OLD   MAID. 

didn't  have  time  for  observin'  half  what  1  told 
you.  When  the  whistle  blew,  the  music  stopped, 
and  the  leader  said  they  would  now  have  a  rigger 
called  "  Sir  Rogerly  Coverlid,"  or  somethin'  like 
that. 

Wall,  you've  seen  the  girls  to  the  'Cademy  go 
through  with  their  jimnastic  figgers  ?  It  seemed 
to  me  pretty  much  like  them,  only  with  a  good 
deal  o'  waltzin'  mixed  up  in  it.  Then  they  had 
other  figgers — plays,  I  should  call  'em — and 
'mazin'  silly  ones,  too,  for  growed  up  men  aiiu 
wimmin  to  partake  together  in.  One  wras  "  Puss 
in  the  corner,"  where  they  put  a  lady  inter  each 
corner  of  the  room,  and  then  let  five  gentlemen 
make  a  dive  for  'em.  Of  course  the  spry  ones 
walked  off  with  a  pardner,  and  left  the  fifth  feller 
alone  lookin'  silly  enough,  and  everybody  smiled. 
I  didn't,  though,  I  thought  it  was  real  embarassin' 
for  the  poor  young  man. 

I  mustn't  forget  to  tell  ye  that  there  was  a 
table  in  one  cornei;where  they  kept  the  "favors." 
"  Favors"  are  little  fancy  things ;  silk  wheel' 
barrers,  rosettes,  and  parasols,  and  anything  cute 
and  pretty  to  look  at,  and  of  no  other  mortal  use. 
Though  Sophiar  said  that  sometimes  they  give 
real  useful  presents.  But  that  night  they  seemed 
ter  be  mostly  for  ornament,  and  they  pinned  'em 
on  to  one  'nother,  till  the  men,  'specially,  looked 
as  if  butterflies  had  lit  all  over  their  black  coats. 

And  so  they  went  on  waltzin'  and  waltzin',  and 
the  genteel  leader  begun  to  look  as  if  he  was 
dewin'  somebody  a  favor  in  holdin'  himself  to 
gether,  and  the  musicianers  seemed  to  grow  tired 
and  sleepy.  One  o'  them  musicianers — the  feller 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN   OLD  MAID.  6; 

that  blowed  the  horn — had  a  very  sick  baby  to 
home,  so  Sophiar  told  me.  Poor  man,  while  all 
this  gaiety  was  goin'  on,  his  baby  might  be  dyin'. 
Once  when  they  was  playin'  one  of  them  sobbin1 
kind  o'  waltzes  that  sounds  more  like  death  and 
misery  rhan  a  dancin'  tune,  I  see  him  put  up  his 
hand  and  wipe  away  a  tear.  I  wanted  ter  go  and 
ask  about  the  baby,  and  tell  him  I  felt  for  him, 
but  Sophiar  said  it  wouldn't  dew. 

About  1 1  o'clock  they  had  refreshments,  and 
they  come  in  jest  the  nick  o'  time,  tew.  I  don't 
believe  we  could  'a'  held  out  much  longer  without 
somethin'  ter  kinder  brace  us  up.  Not  that  any 
body  appeared  anxious  to  git  anything  to  eat ;  oh, 
la,  no  indeed,  fur  from  it ! 

The  ladies  took  the  plates  o'  chicken  salud  and 
skalloped  oysters  with  the  tips  o'  their  fingers, 
and  pecked  away  at  'em  with  their  forks  as  if  it 
was  really  a  cross  to  have  to  eat.  But  I  noticed 
that  whole  plates-full  disappeared  somehow  or 
nother — in  quick  time  tew,  and  the  gentlemen 
had  to  step  round  lively  to  keep  their  pardners1 
wants  supplied,  and  get  a  chance  to  eat  anything 
themselves. 

There's  one  thing  wimmin  can  beat  the  men 
at,  and  that  is  eatiri .  And  they  have  sech  a  way 
that  they  can  make  pigs  o'  themselves  and  nobod) 
know  it  ! 

Wall,  after  supper  we  all  felt  better,  and  there 
seemed  to  be  ruther  more  sociability  and  talkin', 
not  any  to  hurt  though.  Sophiar  says  it  ain't 
considered  the  thing  among  the  "  alcet"  to  speak 
up  loud  or  laugh  hearty,  and  they  did  all  seem 
subdood  and  sollum — enough  for  a  funeral,  that's  q 
fact. 


68  ADVENTURES    OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

But  I  heard  'em  sayin'  to  one  'nother  hovvt 
they  were  havin'  a  "  charmin'  time,"  "  delightful 
evenin',"  and  so  on,  and  I  concluded  they  felt 
•nore  cheerful  than  what  they  looked. 

To  wind  up  with,  they  had  a  militerry  figger 
and  grand  march.  Afore  they  got  done  marchin' 
they  all  pulled  little  gilt  paper  things  that  had 
torpedoes  inside  on  'em  and  went  off  with  a  crack, 
and  out  came  for  each  one  a  cap  or  head-riggin'  of 
some  kind  made  o'  tissue-paper. 

They  was  all  colors  and  shapes ;  some  on  'em 
was  harnsome  and  some  on  'em  was  hidgeous,  hut 
howsomever,  they  straightened  'em  out  as  well  as 
they  could  and  put  'em  'on  their  heads.  I  did 
think  I  should  die  to  see  'em  !  Such  a  ridicker- 
Jous  sight  as  they  was  !  One  big  man  with  a 
beard  all  over  his  face,  had  on  a  little  white,  baby 
night-cap,  tied  under  his  chin  !  And  another 
little  mite  of  a  man  looked  fierce  enough  in  a 
great  red  helmet,  with  an  awful  green  eye  a-top 
on't !  If  them  men  had  been  anywheres  else,  I'm 
sartin  they  couldn't  'a'  been  hired  to  make  them 
selves  look  so  silly ! 

I  guess  the  wimmin  enjoyed  their  caps  the 
most,  though  they  seemed  anxious  to  know  if 
they  was  becomin',  and  I  see  some  changin'  goin' 
on.  Most  on  'em  wore  their  riggin'  all  through 
the  dance,  which  was,  as  I  said,  a  militerry  figger. 
Sophiarand  James  give  me  their  caps  and  favors 
to  bring  home  and  show  the  folks. 

I  was  glad  when  it  was  over,  'specially  on  ac 
count  o'  the  poor  musicianer  with  the  sick  baby 
waitin1  for  him  to  home.  I  guess  his  wife  was 
glad  to  see  him,  and  I  hope  the  baby  got  well, 
but  I  hain't  heard. 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  69 


THE    STORY    OF   "HARNSOME   MARIAR.' 

RELATED  BY  THE  DEACON'S  WIFE. 

"  I  am  dretful  strong  on  temperance,  to  begin 
with — as  a  woman  in  my  posishun  orter  be.  You 
see  I've  been  president  of  the  "  W.  C.  T.  U.  O.  C." 
(which  stands  for  '  The  Wimmins  Christian  Tem 
perance  Union  of  Crabtown')  goin'  on  four  year, 
and  durin'  that  hull  time,  I've  looked  arter  the 
interests  o'  the  socierty  faithful,  set  on  the  plat 
form  to  all  the  meetin's  and  interdooced  the 
speakers.  Though  Caleb  Jason — that's  my  hus 
band — alwers  makes  a  fuss  ;  says  he  don't  want 
his  wife  "  stuck  up  there  'long  with  a  pack  o'  old 
maids  and  widders,  most  on  'em  humly  enough 
to  make  a  decent  man  sick  tew  his  stummick  !" 

I  says,  "Caleb  Jason,  they  be  plain  I'll  'low; 
but  you  must  recolleck  that  the''  repersent 
principles." 

Still,  between  you'n'  me,  notwithstandin'  my 
posishun,  I  ain't  so  clear  on  some  pints  respectin' 
the  temperance  question  as  what  I'd  like  to  be  : 
that  is,  as  to  ways  and  means,  and  so  on.  I  don't 
feel  quite  sartin  that  prohibishion  would  settle  the 
matter  to  once,  and  moril  swazion  don't  seem  to 
fill  the  bill  exackly  ;  so  there  I  be.  Though  I've 
alwers  done  what  I  could  to  carry  out  both 
principles. 


70  ADVENTURES   OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

We've  got  all  sorts  o'  workers  in  our  Socierty 
and  all   on  'em  is  in  ded  arnest   too,  I    tell  ye, 
There's  some  that  goes  round  the  country  anner- 
lizin'  all  the  likker  they  can  git  hold  on,  so  's  ter 
tell  what's  in  it  to  the  meetin's.      Seem  's  if  they 

j 

found  everything  under  the  sun  in  it — though 
pizen's  the  principal  ingregient.  But  la,  folks 
would  drink  it  if  it  was  all  pizen,  and  the  likker 
dealers  know  it,  and  have  been  gradually  workin' 
up  tew  it  for  some  time.  I  dunno's  the  pizen 
argyment  is  a  mite  stronger'n  any  other. 

Then  agin,  some  bring  in  long  likker  bills  and 
foot  'em  up  on  the  black-board,  ter  show  how 
much  money  is  fooled  away,  and  then  go  on  to 
kalkerlate  how  many  barrels  o'  flower  and  bangle 
bracelets  the  same  sum  would  pervide  the  drunk 
ard's  family.  This  argyment  is  naterally  popular 
with  the  wimmin  folks. 

A  good  many  of  our  members  is  strong  for 
Wimmin's  Rights  ;  think  if  wimmin  could  vote, 
the  hull  bizness  would  be  settled  ter  once  by  law. 
But  for  my  part,  I  hain't  much  faith  in  the  law  ; 
and  I'd  ruther  my  men  folks  would  go  inter  the 
front  door  to  git  their  drinks  than  sneak  round 
to  the  back  door.  It  looks  more  respecktable, 
somehow. 

Last  year,  when  we  found  that  Jonas  Hapgood 
was  goin'  to  Congress,  \ve  felt  pretty  chirk,  I  tell 
ye  ;  for  he'd  alwcrs  been  a  red-hot  temperance 
and  wimmin's  rights  man,  and  we  thought  he'd 
give  us  quite  a  boost.  So  the  Socierty  sent  me 
off  post-haste  to  interview  him. 

He  received  me  with  open  arms,  as  it  were, 
and  told  me  that  I  could  "  asshure  the  sisters  of 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  7> 

the  '  W.  C.  T.  U.  O.  C.'  that  his  hull  heart  was 
theirn,"  and  so  on.  He  took  hold  o'  my  hand 
and  squeezed  and  squeezed  it — seemed  as  if  he 
wouldn't  never  let  go,  till  finally,  for  decency's 
sake,  I  put  an  end  to  it,  and  says  I,  laughin'  : 

"  Brother  Hapgood,  we  don't  want  your  heart* 
couldn't  make  no  airthly  use  on't ;  but  if  you'll 
pledge  yourself  to  vote  for  us — that  is,  in  the  in 
terests  o'  Prohibishion  and  Wimmin's  Rights,  we 
shall  be  perfeckly  satisfied,"  says  I. 

Upon  that  he  hemmed  and  hawed,  and  man- 
aged  to  let  himself  down  and  out  as  slick  as 
grease.  I  couldn't  find  no  fault  with  his  manners, 
that's  a  fact !  But  we  made  up  our  minds  that 
men  and  women  don't  haul  tergether  very  well  in 
politicks — not  as  a  gineral  thing. 

We've  got  a  "  Reform  Club"  in  Crabtown,  and 
it's  done  a  power  o'  good.  You  see,  the  way  we 
manage,  we  set  all  the  reformed  drunkards  to 
watchin'  one  'nother,  and  it's  a  good  way.  "  It 
takes  a  thief  to  ketch  a  thief,"  ye  know. 

And  \ve  keep  up  the  interest  in  our  meetin's 
by  securin'  for  every  Sunday  night  some  dretful 
specimen  of  a  sot,  and  gittin'  him  to  sign  the 
pledge,  and  then  go  up  on  the  platform  and  tell 
his  experience  or  sing  a  song.  The  more  dis- 
repytable  he  looks,  the  more  of  a  success  we  con 
sider  him  ;  and  if  we  can  fetch  him  in  when  he  is 
a  little  fnite  boozy,  so  much  the  better — the  morii 
effeck  I  mean.  But  arter  all's  said  and  done,  some 
times  I  feel  about  discouraged,  and,  as  I  tell  Caleb 
Jason,  it  doos  seem  as  if  the  only  sure  way  ter 
keep  folks  from  drinkin'  rum  is  to  sew  up  t/ieir 
mouths  /  and  then  they'd  pour  it  into  their  ears 


/2  ADVENTURES   <~>F  AN    OLD   MAID. 

through  a  tunnil — fur's  I  know!  It  doos  heat 
all! 

Did  I  ever  tell  you  what  a  time  I  had  with  my 
Mariar? — "  Harnsome  Mariar"  they  called  her, 
and  she  was  a  beauty,  no  mistake.  She  worked 
for  me  'bout  three  months  last  year ;  that's  the 
way  I  happened  to  know  her.  I  wouldn't  have 
anybody  think  that  I'm  in  the  habit  o'  keepin'  a 
hired  girl.  I  sh'd  be  ashamed  and  mortified 
enough  !  No  ;  when  I'm  in  my  usual  health  I 
wouldn't  take  the  gift  o'  the  best  help  in  the 
world  !  If  my  mother  before  me  did  her  own 
work,  and  made  butter  and  cheese  the  year  round, 
ter  say  nothin'  o'  soap-makin',  house-cleanin',  and 
picklin',  and  perservin'  all  extry,  with  a  family  o' 
nine  children,  I  must  be  smart  if  I  can't  dew  the 
work  for  myself  and  Caleb  Jason  and  Jerry  ! 
With  all  the  modern  improvements  tew — the 
patent  bakers  and  bilers  and  washin'-machines 
and  carpet-sweepers — I'm  sure  the  garret  is  full 
on  'em  ! 

But  there  was  a  while  last  spring,  when  I  got 
all  run  down,  and  a  good  many  days  I  seemed 
ter  need  somebody  to  kinder  fill  up  the  garps. 
Then  I  heard  o'  Mariar.  I  was  told  that  she'd 
been  onfortunit,  and  had  been  in  the  habit  o' 
drinkin'  some  ;  but  that  her  husband  led  her  into 
't  and  was  to  blame  for  it,  and  that  she  hatecf  and 
dispised  the  hull  thing  herself,  and  had  left  him 
for  the  sake  o'  tryin'  to  be  a  decent  woman. 

Of  course  I  was  interested  in  her  to  once,  and 
took  her  right  inter  my  home  and  heart,  as  ye 
m'ght  say. 

She  was  awful  lady-like  as  well   as  harnsome 


ADVENTURES   OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  73 

and  I  felt  at  fust  pretty  much  as  if  I  was  the 
hired  girl.  The  deacon  used  to  say  I  treated  her 
like  company,  and  he  should  think  I'd  put  on  the 
best  chiny  for  her  to  use  every  day. 

Anyway,  I  did  take  a  great  fancy  to  her,  and  1 
declare  I  forgot  all  about  her  ever  drinkin'  'fore 
she'd  been-  with  me  a  week. 

It  was  goin' on  two  months  arter  she  come 
that  she  went  down  town  of  an  arrant  one  day, 
and'j^mefc 'along  supper-time  no  Mariar,  and  I 
begun  to  wonder  what  kep'  her. 

Bimeby  a  hack  drove  inter  the  door-yard,  and 
who -should  pitch  out  head  fust  inter  the  snow 
bu£  mfvjMariar !  Wall,  the  driver  helped  her  up 
onto  tffe  .piazzer  and  drove  away  grinnin'. 

I  hadn't  never  seen  a  drunken  man  close  tew, 
to  say  nothin'  of  a  drunken  ivoman !  I  was 
dumfoundered  ! 

I  went  up  to  her  and  touched  her  shoulder, 
and  says  I,  "  I  wanter  know  if  this  is  you, 
Mariar." 

"  Wall,  I  should  smile!"  says  Mariar,  winkin' 
one  black  eye  at  me.  Her  bunnit  was  way  offn 
"her  head,  and  she  looked  dretful  rowdyish. 

"  Ain't  ye  'shamed  o'  yourself  ?"  says  I,  pullin' 
on  her  bunnit  and  jerkin'  her  down  into  a  cheer. 
"  Give  an  account  o'  yourself.  Where've  ye  been 
and  what  a-dewin'  ?"  says  I. 

"  Oh,"  says  she,  beginnin'  to  whimper,  "  I  was 
took  on  the  street  with  one  o'  my  terrible  '  spells ' 
and  had  to  call  a  hack  ter  fetch  me  home." 

"Mariar,"  says  I,  real  sollum,  "you've  been  a 
drinkin'  sperits — I  smell  'em  on  your  breath  !" 

"  Of  course  I  have  !"  she  says,  as  bold  as  brass. 


74  ADVENTURES   OF  AN  OLD   MAID.. 

''  I  had  ter  go  into  a  store  and  git  a  little  some- 
thin'  'fore  I  could  come  home.  What  would  you 
have  me  dew  ?" 

I  looked  at  her  sharp,  but  I  didn't  hardly  know 
what  to  think.  I  hadn't  never  heard  'bout  no 
"  spells"  afore. 

"  I  feel  dretful  sicK  now,"  she  says,  "  and  I  wish 
I  could  go  to  bed.  I  shall  be  all  right  in  the 
morninV 

She  couldn't  walk  straight,  and  she  groaned 
and  made  a  terrible  fuss.  I  helped  her  into  her 
room  and  took  off  her  things,  and  she  laid 
down. 

The  deacon  was  away — gone  delergate  to  a 
Convention — and  there  wa'n't  nobody  in  the 
house  but  me  'n'  Jerry — that's  my  little  boy — aim 
Mariar. 

I  looked  in  on  Mariar  'bout  dark  and  spoke  to 
her,  but  she  seemed  all  right,  so  I  left  her  and 
went  off  to  bed. 

In  the  middle  o'  the  night  I  happened  to  wake 
up,  and  thought  I'd  jest  go  and  see  how  she  was  ; 
and,  wall — there  she  laid,  white  as  any  marble 
statoo !  And  when  I  begged  on  her  to  speak 
and  tell  me  if  she  was  dead,  she  only  rolled  up 
her  eyes  a  little  grain  ;  that  was  all ! 

I  routed  up  Jerry  and  sent  him  off  post-haste 
after  the  doctor  ;  and  in  a  few  minutes  he  come 
along  puffin'  and  out  o'  breath.  He  give  one 
look  at  my  Mariar  and  bust  out  a-laughin'. 

"  You've  sarved  me  a  fine  trick,"  says  he, 
"  haulin'  me  out  o'  bed  this  cold  night  for  this 
'ere." 

"  Doctor,"  says  I,  layin'  my  hand  on  her  cold 


ADVENTURES   OF  Atf  OLD  MAID.  ?$ 

forrid,  "don't  joke  in  the  chamber  o'  death  !     I 
can  see  that  she's  dyin'  !" 

"  Dyiri  !  Drunk,  you  mean,"  says  the  doctor; 
"  dead  drunk  /" 

Then  he  asked  me  'bout  it,  and  I  told  him  how 
she  come  home,  and  how  she  'peared  and  all. 

"  Where's  her  bottle  ?"  he  asks.  "  She's  been 
drinkin'  all  night.  Where's  her  bottle  ?" 

"Her  bottle  /"  I  screams.  "  Do  you  mean  ter 
say  that  the  creatur'  has  been  a-drinkin'  and 
carousin'  right  here  under  my  nose,  and  me  presi 
dent  of  a  temperance  socierty,  and  a  deacon's  wife 
ter  boot !" 

"  Jest  so,"  says  the  doctor,  dry's  a  chip. 
"  She's  been  on  a  bust,  as  ye  might  say,  right 
here  in  your  bedroom,  Mis'  Jones." 

I  declare  you  might  'a'  knocked  me  down  with 
a  pin-feather. 

Wall,  he  went  on  rummagin'  round  under  the 
bed  and  pullin'  out  burow  drawers,  and  bimeby 
sure  enough  he  did  find  a  great  quart  bottle 
marked  "  Borbon  Whiskey,"  and  it  was  empty. 

Wall,  we  give  her  a  bowl  o'  strong  cofFy,  and 
the  doctor  staid  with  us  a  little  while,  bein'  I  was 
alone  and  so  kinder  upsot.  Towards  mornin' 
Mariar  begun  to  come  tew. 

When  she  could  speak,  she  turns  her  great 
harnsome  eyes  on  to  the  doctor  and  says  she, 

"  Doctor,  did  you  ever  see  so  good-lookin'  i 
woman  as  I  be,  in  sech  a  miser'ble  condishun 
afore  ?" 

"  No,  I  hope  not,"  says  he.  She  drawed  in  a 
long  breath.  "  So  young,  so  beautiful,  so  onfor- 
tinit,"  she  sighs. 


76  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

"  Nothin'  o'  the  kind  !"  says  the  doctor 
"  You're  drunk,  that's  all !" 

Then  she  begins  to  groan  and  take  on,  and 
wring  her  hands. 

"  Oh,"  says  she,  awful  beseechin',  "'won't  you 
give  me  somethin'  ter  make  vs\z  forgit !" 

"  No,  I  won't !"  snaps  the  doctor.  "  I'd  give 
ye  somethin'  ter  make  ye  remember,  though,  if  I 
could  !" 

She  see  she  wa'n't  goin'  to  make  much  out  o' 
him,  so  she  turned  her  face  over  to  the  wall  and 
kep'  still. 

The  doctor  left  us  pretty  soon,  and  I  made  her 
as  comfortable  as  I  could,  and  then  went  and  laid 
down. 

In  about  an  hour  I  heard  Mariar  come  stum- 
blin'  along  out.  She  conic  inter  my  room,  and  up 
to  my  bed,  cryin'  and  wririgin'  her  hands,  and 
says  she,  "  Where's  the  bottle  ?  Give  it  to 
me  !" 

"  You  can't  have  it,"  says  I  ;  "  and,  besides, 
there  ain't  nothin'  in  it." 

"  Oh,  give  me  a  drop,  jest  one  drop  !"  she 
begged,  lookin'  wild  and  crazy.  I  thought  o' 
the  rich  man  in  torment,  but  I  was  firm  as  a 
rock. 

"  Not  a  drop  !"  says  I,  "  not  a  single,  identikle 
dropr 

"  Git  me  somcthiri ,  then,"  she  screams  in  a 
fury,  "  and  git  it  quick,  or  I'll  tear  ye  all  ter 
pieces !" 

I  sprung  round  and  made  her  some  morecoffv. 
extry  strong  and  hot,  and  she  drank  'bout  a  qu;1 
and  went  off  to  bed  agin. 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  77 

The  next  day  she  was  in  her  right  mind,  but 
weak  and  trembly. 

/was  all  used  up.      If  I  hadn't  been  president 

0  the  "  W.  C.  T.  U.  O.  C.,"    I'd'  a'  opened   the 
door  and  set  her  out  on  to  the  door  stun.      But 
as  it  was,  I  thought  I  must  consider  the  looks  o( 
the  thing. 

Wall,  I  labored  and  talked  /vith  her  the  best  I 
knew  how,  and  she  seemed  sorry  and  promised 
ter  dew  better.  She  spoke  o'  the  hackman,  and 
asked  if  it  'twa'n't  that  good-lookin'  Johnson  that 
fetched  her  home.  I  told  her  it  was,  and  she  said 
ho\v  she  "  hoped  she  didn't  look  like  a  fright  if 
she  was  drunk." 

I  felt  it  my  dooty  to  tell  her  that  her  bunnit 
was  all  jammed,  and  on  one-sided,  and  she  seemed 
mortified  enough. 

All  the  forenoon  she  was  ree'iess  and  oneasy. 

1  didn't  know  what  to  make  on  her.     The  doctor 
charged  me  to  keep  her  still  in  the  house,  but  I 
had  hard  work  to  dew  it,  I  tell  ye. 

Fust  she  said  a  walk  would  make  her  feel  better. 
She  wanted  to  go  down  to  the  post-offis ;  she  was 
expectin'  a  letter.  I  told  her  Jerry  would  go 
down  for  her. 

Then  she  said  as  long's  she  wa'n't  able  to  work, 
she'd  like  ter  go  and  call  on  a  friend.  I  advised 
her  to  put  it  off  a  day  or  tew. 

Then  she  begun  to  howl  and  dance  round  the 
room ;  said  her  tooth  ached,  and  she  must  go  ter 
the  dentist  and  have  it  out  right  off,  or  she  should 
go  off  the  handle. 

I  put  everything  I  could  think  on  into  hei 
mouth — for  she  couldn't  seem  to  tell  which  tooth 


78  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

it  was — and  finally  when  I  brought  out  tru 
creosote,  she  said  she  felt  a  little  mite  better,  sc 
we  didn't  try  that.  But  bimeby  she  complained 
o'  feelin'  faint,  and  asked  me  to  open  the  winder 
jest  a  crack.  I  did,  and  she  seemed  ter  revive 
right  off,  and  said  now  if  she  only  had  a  good  cup 
o'  tea  she  should  be  all  right.  I  went  out  inter  the 
kitchen  to  make  the  tea — had  ter  bile  the  tca^ 
kittle  and  it  took  some  time — and  when  I  come 
back,  the  winder  was  wide  open,  and  my  Mariar 
wa'n't  nowheres  to  be  seen  ! 

I  felt  awful  worked  up,  and  I  knew  the  doctor 
would  blame  me.  I  waited  an  hour  or  sc,  think- 
in'  she'd  come  back  as  quick  as  she'd  got  a  drink, 
but  she  didn't  come,  so  I  put  on  my  bunnit  ?.nd 
shawl  and  walked  down  street. 

When  I  got  oppersite  the  post-offis  I  met 
Mariar  a-rollin'  along  towards  me,  with  her  bun- 
nit  hangin'  down  her  back,  and  she  was  singing  as 
loud  as  she  could  yell,  somethin'  she  lamed  to 
the  "  Salvation  Army"  meetin's. 

"  I  am,  I  am  the  child  of  a  king  !" 

There  was  a  pack  o'  boys  to  her  heels,  laughin' 
and  makin'  fun,  and  when  they  see  me,  they  hoi. 
!ered  out, 

"Mis' Jones!  here's  your  Mariar  !  and  she  says 
how  she's  the  child  of  a  king /  Look's  like  one, 
don't  she  ?" 

"  She  acts  more  like  a  child  o'  the  evil  one  !" 
thinks  I,  but  I  didn't  say  nothin'. 

I  got  her  home  as  quick  's  I  could  and  put  he; 
to  bed  agin",  andfollered  out  the  same  program' 
as  before,  only  this  time  I  didn't  call  the  docto; 


ADVENTURES   OF  AN   OLD   MAID,  ?$ 

"  I  kep*  her  straight  a  spell  arter  this,  hut  I 
found  it  wa'n't  no  use.  I  tried  everything  but 
sewin'  up  her  mouth,  and  had  ter  give  up.  I  got 
so  out  o'  patience  finally  that  I  set  her  a-goin'.  I 
didn't  care  if  I  was  president  of  the  "  W.  C.  T. 
U.  O.  C.  ;"  I  was  human  all  the  same,  and  I  wa? 
all  wore  out. 

So  I  got  her  some  new  clo'es,  and  paid  he; 
fare  back  to  her  mother,  and  I  hain't  seen  nci 
heard  from  her  sence. 


80  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAW. 


A   HOTEL   EXPERIENCE. 

A  good  many  Crabtown  folks  take  their  meal; 
at  the  hotel  through  the  months  of  July  and 
August.  They  ruther  do  so  than  go  to  the  beach 
or  mountings.  I  think,  myself,  it's  most  comfort 
able  stayin'  ter  home  the  wust  o'  the  hot  weather, 
and  doin'  your  travellin'  and  visitin'  when  it's 
cooler.  But  la,  there's  them  that  would  go  away 
somewheres,  jest  for  the  name  on't,  if  they  suf 
fered  etarnal  torments.  It's  astonishin'  what 
some  folks  will  endure  for  the  sake  o'  bein' 
fashnerble !  Lucy  Jane  was  tellin'  me  how  she 
went  to  the  beach  the  summer  before,  and  took 
little  Emmy,  and  she  said  she  never  worked  so 
hard  nor  suffered  so  much  in  the  hull  course  of 
her  life. 

You  see,  Emmy  had  to  be  kep'  dressed  up  in 
clean  white  clo'eSj  and  she  couldn't  play  nor  take 
no  comfort,  and  the  consequents  was  that  she 
got  so  cross  and  fretty  that  her  mother  couldn't 
do  nothin'  with  her ;  and,  what  time  she  didn't 
spend  on  Emmy  was  occupied  in  dressin'  andon- 
dressin'  herself — sweatirT  and  fussin'  to  look  as 
well  as  the  rest  on  'em.  So  when  she  got  home 
she  was  all  run  down,  au«J  the  fust  thing  Jake— 
that's  her  husband — said  tew  her,  was,  that  she 
looked  as  if  she'd  had  a  fit  o'  sickness.  "And  I 
told  him,"  said  Lucy  Jane,  "  how't  that  was  the 
last  time  I  should  go  awav  from  home  in  hot 

o  ./ 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  8  I 

weather,  if  I  knew  myself."  So  the  next  summer 
she  thought  she'd  try  a  new  plan. 

You  see,  she  didn't  never  keep  no  help  (Lucy 
Jane's  a  fust-rate  housekeeper — smart  as  a  trap), 
and  there's  only  three  on  'em,  and  I  made  four  ; 
so  she  says  to  me,  "  We'll  take  our  meals  to  the 
hotel.  Then  I  shall  git  red  o'  the  cookin'  over  a 
hot  stove,  and  that's  all  I  want." 

She  asked  me  what  I  thought  on't,  and  I  told 
her  I  run  of  a  notion  I  should  like  it.  So  we  be 
gun  the  very  next  day. 

But  there  was  some  things  about  it  I  didn't 
like,  and  couldn't  never  git  used  to,  I  know. 
For  instance,  when  we  undertook  to  set  down  to 
the  table,  half  a  dozen  waiters  sprung  forrerd,  and 
one  on  'em  grabbed  my  chair  in  both  hands  and 
hild  it  'way  back.  What  ter  dew  I  didn't  know, 
but  I  looked  at  Lucy  Jane  and  tried  to  back  in 
ter  my  chair  jest  as  she  did,  with  the  man  a 
holdin'  on  to  it.  But  fust  I  knew  my  lim's  was 
knocked  out  from  under  me,  and  I  set  down  all 
of  a  sudden  !  I  thought  for  a  minnit  my  knees 
was  broke  sure.  I  didn't  like  it,  any  way,  and  I 
says  to  Lucy  Jane,  "  When  I  git  so  I  can't  set 
down  ter  the  table  alone,  I'll  go  without  eatin' !' 
says  I. 

She  laughed,  and  said  I'd  "git  used  tew  it,"  but 
i  never  did  ;  and  if  I  could  sly  in  and  git  my  seat 
without  that  waiter  seein'  me,  I  enjoyed  my  din 
ner  a  good  deal  better.  But  he  was  ginerallv 
right  on  hand  ;  he  was  an  awful  wide-awake  feller  ! 
When  I  was  eatin',  of  course  I  had  to  look  some- 
wheres,  and  if  my  eye  happened  to  lite  on  him  for 
a  second,  he'd  spring  at  me  as  if  his  life  depended 


•'  WH*N  i  GIT  so  i  CAN'T  SET  DOWN  TER  THE  TABLE  ALONE,  I'LI 
GO  WITHOUT  EATIN'  !"  SAYS  i.    (Page  81.) 

82 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MA  ft*.  83 

on  sarvin'  me.  Once  he  gnbbed  my  plate  and 
was  goin'  off  with  it.  "  See  here,"  says  I,  "won't 
you  jest  let  my  plate  be ;  I  hain't  done  with  it 
jret." 

"  Oh,"  says  he,  terrible  cut  up  "  I  beg  vour 
pardin  !" 

"  All  right,"  says  I.  I  didn't  wanter  hurt 
his  feelin's,  y:>u  know,  for  he  meant  well,  and 
after  that  he  was  a  little  more  moderate. 

That  hotel  was  a  master  place  ter  study  human 
natur'. 

I  found  out  that  a  ^ady  to  home  was  a  lady 
to  a  hotel ;  but  some  that  called  themselves  so 
was  anything  but  ladies,  'cordin'  ter  my  mind. 
They  had  a  chance  to  show  right  out  what  they 
was.  They'd  find  no  end  o'  fault  with  the  waiters 
and  turn  up  their  noses  at  the  vittles.  They'd 
order  'bout  everything  on  the  bill  o'  fare,  and  then 
pick  it  all  over  and  leave  it  in  a  mess.  I  couldn't 
a  felt  ter  dew  so  more'n  I  would  ?'"i  a  private 
house. 

We  see  all  sorts  o'  folks.  One  day  a  woman 
corne  in  and  set  down  to  our  table.  She  was  all 
decked  out  in  silks  and  dimonds,  and  had  abokay 
pinned  on  to  her  stummuck  as  big  as  a  wash-dish. 
Lucy  Jane  said  she  was  a  "transient,"  but  aftei 
we  see  how  she  performed  we  concluded  she  was 
a  pig,  whatever  else  she  might  be.  We  had 
lobster  salud  on  the  table  that  day,  for  a  kind  of 
a  side  dish — there  wa'n't  a  great  lot  on'r,  ye  know 
—it  was  only  jest  for  a  relish  like  pickles  or 
persarves.  There  was  one  dish  tc  each  end  o' 
the  table.  Wall,  what  did  that  creatur'  dew  but 


84  ADVENTURES  OP   AN   OLD  MAID. 

put  her  arm  round  the  one  at  her  end  o'  the 
table  and  dip  into  it  as  if  she  owned  it ! 

When  I  see  that,  1  says  to  the  lady  beside  o' 
me, 

"  Less'  larn  her  a  lesson,  and  shame  her,  if 
there's  any  shame  tew  her."  "Agreed,"  says  she 

So  we  took  the  other  dish  o'  salud — all  there 
was  on  the  table,  mind  ye — and  passed  it  along 
tew  her. 

When  the  woman  see  what  was  comin'  she 
looked  kinder  puzzled  for  a  minute,  then  she 
smiled,  as  pleased  as  could  be,  and  what  did  she 
dew,  but  take  it,  and  thank  us,  bowin'  her  head 
till  her  dimonds  fairly  dazzled  our  eyes ;  and  says 
she,  "  I'm  sure  you're  real  kind  ;  I'm  dreadful 
fond  o'  lobster  salud  !"  And  upon  that  she  fell 
tew  and  finished  the  job  in  no  time  !  We  was  tew 
disgusted  to  even  smile,  but  there  wa'n't  no  draw 
backs  to  her  enjoyment ! 

Not  long  after  the  waiter  set  a  stranger  down 
side  6'  me.  He  was  a  good-natered,  respectable- 
lookin'  man — that  was  all  I  minded  about  him  at 
fust ;  but  when  he  took  up  the  bill  o'  fare  he 
turned  to  me  in  a  curi's  confidin'  kind  o'  way  and 
says  he, 

"  I  can't  see  to  read  this  'ere  ;  I  wish  you'd  jest 
run  over  the  meat  list  to  me."  So  I  begun  to  read 
it  to  him  low.  "  Roast  beef,  roast  lamb,"  and  so 
on. 

He  put  his  hand  up  to  his  ear.     "  Won't  you 

speak  a  leetle  louder  ?"  says  he  ;  "  I'm  ruther  hard 

»  i  >  » 

o   heann . 

So  I  went  over  it  agin,  so  loud  th^.t  all  the 
folks  to  the  table  looked  up  to  see  what  I  was 


ADVEXTUKES   OF  AN   OLD   MAID.  8$ 

dewin'.  I  felt  cheap  enough,  but  I  could'nt  re« 
fuse  ter  help  a  feller  mortal  piek  out  his  dinner. 
He  finally  stopped  me  and  said  he'd  have  roast 
beef.  "  I  don't  know  much  about  them  furrin 
names — Fillet  d  beef  and  Arly  mode"  says  he, 
smilin'  good-natered.  "  Plain  roast  beef  is  safest 
for  me,  I  guess."  "  Any  vegetables  ?"  asks  the 
waiter. 

The  man  handed  the  bill  o'  fare  to  me  agin 
with  that  same  confidin'  smile.  "  Read,"  says 
he. 

So  I  read;  "  Squash,  tomarters,  green  corn— 
"  Stop  !"  says  he,  so  quick  and  sharp  that  I   bit 
my  tongue,  and  the  waiter  knocked  over  a  goblet 
o'  water. 

"  For  massy  sakes,  what  is  it  !"  says  I,  thinkin 
the  man  had  lost  what  few  senses  he  had. 

"  Nothin',"  says  he,  "only  I'll  have  corn  !  Hain't 
had  none  this  year,  by  George  !  all  dried  up  our 
way  !  I'll  have  corn  and  turnup — that'll  dew" 
and  he  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  smacked  his 
lips. 

Wall,  the  waiter  brought  his  dinner,  and  I 
thought  my  sarvices  wouldn't  be  needed  no  more, 
when  all  to  once  the  man  turned  to  me  kinder 
perplexed  like,  and  says  he, 

"  I  wish  you'd  be  good  enough  to  taste  o'  my 
pertater  ;  it  tastes  dretful  queer." 

I  didn't  dars  ter  refuse  for  fear  he'd  make  talk 
about  it,  and  I  should  be  still  more  conspicevvous, 
so  I  tasted  on't. 

"  Lordy  massy,"  says  I,  "  that's  your  turnup  ! 
Where's  your  pertater  ?" 

"  What  ?"  says  he,  puttin'  his  hand  to  his  ear. 


86  ADVENTURES   OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

"Turnup  !"  says  I.  He  nodded  his  bead  and 
laughed. 

"  1  thought  so,"  says  he,  "  but  I  didn't  feel  quite 
sure.  S'pose  like  enough  real  pertater  is  scaree 
here,  hey  ?  Think  I  can  git  some?  Oh  wall,  all 
right," 

1  spoke  to  the  waiter  and  he  brought  his  per 
tater.  Thinks  I  ter  myself,  "  Mister,  you  hain'c 
£ot  seven  senses  enough  about  ye  ter  travel 
round  alone  ;  you  orter  take  a  boy  along  to  tend 
tew  ye.  I've  done  it  'bout  as  long  as  I  want  "er." 
And  I  begun  to  eat  my  dinner  in  arnest. 

Jake  was  tickled  almost  ter  death.  He'd  been 
nudgin'  me  under  the  table  all  the  time.  Every 
body  \vas  lookin'  at  me,  and  there  was  some 
laughin',  but  I  felt  as  if  I  wa'n't  ter  blame  and 
tried  to  look  carm  and  dignerfied 

When  \ve  got  through  our  dinner  we  went  out 
and  left  the  man  I'd  had  the  care  on  still  eatin'. 
Lucy  Jane  and  I,  we  ahvers  had  ter  wait  a  spell 
in  the  parlor  for  Jake,  while  he  went  into  the 
office  to  see  a  friend  or  transack  some  business  or 
'nother,  and  so  we  was  a  settin'  there  laughin'  and 
Calkin'  about  what  had  happened,  when  who 
should  walk  in  but  the  very  man  himself,  and  he 
comes  over  to  me,  and  says  with  that  curi's  con- 
fidrn'  smile  o'  hisn, 

"  Young  \voman,  I  don't  know  who  you  br, 
but  you've  got  a  kind  heart  and  a  brave  one.  Do 
you  think  I  didn't  see  how  embarrissed  you  was 
ter  the  table  ?  Lord  love  ye,  I  can  see  some 
things  without  my  spe'tacles,  if  I  can't  see  ter 
read,  nor  tell  turnup  from  pertater  !  And  now," 
says  he,  fumblin'  in  his  pockets,  "  I  want  'er  give 


ADVENTURES   OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  87 

this  to  remember  me  by,  and  to  remind  ye 
of  your  goodness  to  a  stranger."  So  sayin',  he 
hauled  a  little  ring  out  of  his  pocket,  and 
presented  it  tew  me  on  the  spot. 

I  was  'shamed  enough  to  think  how  I'd  felt 
towards  him,  and  I  colored  up  red's  a  beet. 

"  I  couldn't  think  o'  takin'  it,  mister,"  said  I, 
"  If  I've  done  anything  .D  help  you,  you're 
welcome,  and  more  tew." 

"  Hut,  tut !"  said  he  ;  I'm  older'n  you  be  ;  piay 
I'm  your  uncle  now,  as  I  wish  I  was,  and  take 
the  little  ring--comc. '  When  I  see  how  he  felt 
I  accepted  on't  with  the  fears  in  my  eyes,  and  I've 
wore  it  ever  Fence. 

The  next  day  when  the  ladies  plagued  me 
about  my  "charge,"  as  they  called  him,  I  showed 
'ena  the  ru;~  and  they  agreed  that  I  was  well  paid 

Jake  savs  if-  is  *  ^imvwd  of  the  fust  water. 


88  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 


THE  NEWFANGLED  SCHOOL. 

When  I  was  down  to  my  niece's  last  winter,  I 
went  with  her  one  day  to  visit  the  school  where 
her  little  boy,  James  Ed'ard,  goes,  and — wall,  it 
did  beat  all ! 

I  know  there's  been  great  reforms  and  kn- 
provements  in  the  schools  in  some  respects  sence 
my  day,  and  the  best  on't  is,  doin'  away  with 
them  old  barberous  punishments.  Why,  when  I 
was  young,  a  teacher  that  happened  to  have  a 
cruel  disposishion  could  turn  his  school  into  a 
regelar  inquisishion,  if  he  was  a  mind  tew  ! 

There  was  some  terrible  torturin'  punishments 
that  was  common  everywheres.  To  stand  with 
our  heads  in  the  table-drawer  ;  to  stoop  over  and 
hold  the  tip  of  the  finger  on  the  head  of  a  nail  in 
the  floor ;  settin'  on  nothin'  aginst  the  side  o'  the 
house;  standin' with  our  thum's  tied  to  a  high 
nail  in  the  wall,  and  a  lot  more  that  it  makes  my 
blood  bile  to  remember  ! 

Why,  it  was  a  common  practis'  with  teachers 
to  throw  their  ruler  full  drive  at  any  scholar  they 
happened  to  ketch  in  mischief.  No  thanks  to 
the  teacher  that  it  didn't  kill  every  time  ! 

But  some  things  was  wrell  enough  as  they  was, 
'cordin'  to  my  way  o'  thinkin'.  Now.  didn't  it 
look  beautiful  and  respeckful  for  the  school  to 
rise  when  a  visitor  come  in  ?  And  how  can  a 
class  show  off  to  better  advantage  than  standin'  in 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  89 

the  floor  to  recite,  in  a  nice  straight  line,  heads 
up,  hands  behind  'em,  eyes  on  the  teacher  ? 

I  don't  know  as  it  is  vvuth  while  to  mention  the 
water-pail  and  tin-dipper  business,  but  I  do  say  it 
was  a  good  institution  for  all  consarned,  and  I, 
for  one,  miss  it. 

To  return  to  my  story,  I  don't  s'pose  I  should 
ever  thought  o'  goin'  into  school  that  day,  if  my 
little  nephew's  actions  hadn't  riled  me  up — as  you 
might  say.  He  was  jest  in  his  second  term  o' 
school  and  was  all  took  up  with  his  figgers.  Used 
to  add  and  subtrack  in  his  sleep  ;  lugged  his  tables 
round  with  him  wherever  he  went ;  couldn't 
hardly  eat  a  meal  o'  vittles  without  havin'  'em  side 
of  his  plate.  But  I  undertook  to  hear  him  say 
'em  one  day,  and  lawful  sakes,  I  couldn't  make 
no  head  nor  tail  on't !  What  he  could  say  was 
all  well  and  good,  but  what  he  couldnt  say  I 
couldn't  larn  him  no  more'n  's  if  I'd  spoke  in  a 
heathin  tongue — not  a  mite  ! 

I  alwers  thought  8  and  8  was  16,  and  that  that 
was  all  there  was  to  it ;  but  it  wa'n't  enough  for 
him.  He  said  hovv't  his  teacher  used  things  to 
count  up  by — splintzes  he  called  'em — and  he 
couldn't  and,  wouldn't  larn  my  way. 

I  argered  with  him.  "  Why,  see  here,  James 
Ed'ard,"  says  I,  "8  and  8  is  16,  ain't  it?  All 
you've  got  to  do  is  to  remember  it.  Can't  ye  jest 
remember  it  ?"  But  I  see  it  wa'n't  no  kind  o' 
use,  and  had  to  give  it  up.  I  felt  awful  galled, 
though  to  think  I  couldn't  larn  nothin'  to  a  little 
feller  like  him. 

I  goes  to  his  mar,  and  says  I,  "  Sofrony,  that 
teacher  o'  James  Ed'ard's  ought  to  be  looked  after. 


go  ADVENTURES  OF  AX  OLD  MAID. 

The  idee  that  a  young  one  can't  larn  his  tables 
without  a  mess  o'  splintzes  and  things — redicker> 
lous  !"  says  I.  "  Why  don't  they  jest  say  'em 
over'n  over  till  they  Jam  'em,  as  we  used  to  ? 
Massy  sakes  !  I  bet  I've  said  them  tables  over  to 
myself  more'n  ten  thousand  times  if  I  have  once  ! 
That's  the  way  to  do  it." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  says  Sofrony,  "  that  was  the 
old-fashioned  way  o'  doin' ;  but  I  believe  they 
think  that  was  tew  mecanikle.  Oh,  there's  lots  o' 
newfangled  notions  nowdays,  Aunt  Ruth  !  But 
I  tell  ye  what,  you  and  me  '11  go  into  school  to- 
morrer,  and  see  jest  how  and  all  about  it.  What 
do  ye  say  ?" 

"  Wall,"  says  I,  "  I  don't  care  if  I  do.  I  alwers 
was  interested  in  the  cause  o'  edication  ;  but  I 
shan't  encourage  no  upstart  notions  norswaller  no 
nonsense." 

So  we  went,  and  I  can't  begin  to  tell  all  we  see 
and  heard. 

In  the  fust  place,  the  school-house  was  nice 
enough  for  Queen  Victory's  children  ;  all  fitted 
up  in  great  shape  with  steam-pipes  and  ventilators 
and  maps  and  picters  and  so  on.  I  couldn't  help 
contrastin'  it  with  the  little  oldyeller  school-house 
at  home,  with  its  slantin'  floors  and  rough  pine 
benches.  Then,  agin,  I  remembered  how  it  used 
to  be  when  company-  come  into  school.  ,  How 
kinder  flustered  and  bashful  the  children  alwers 
felt,  and  the  teacher,  too,  for  that  matter.  But 
ia  !  they  didn't  mind  no  more  about  Sofrony  and 
me,  than  if  we'd  been  two  flies  come  buzzin'  in  at 
the  winder. 

"  Ladies,"  says  the  teacher,  after  she'd  Viewed 


ADVENl^URES  OF  AN   OLD  MAID.  g\ 

us  some  seats,  "  we  are  jest  now  engaged  on  our 
exercises  in  'Rithmetic." 

We  see  the  children  was  all  huddled  round  a 
long  table  littered  over  with  what  I  took  to  be 
the  splintzes  james  Ed'ard  had  told  about,  and 
piles  of  commou  pebble-stones. 

The  splintzes  wa'n't  nothin'  under  the  sun  but 
little  bits  o'  wood  cut  all  of  a  size  somethin'  like 
toothpicks.  Wall,  the  boys  and  girls  was  a-stand- 
in'  round  this  table,  as  I  said,  and  when  the 
teacher  asked  'em  a  question,  they  made  a  unan- 
ymus  dive  for  them  splintzes  and  stones  and 
begun  to  count  and  lay  'em  in  piles  afront  of 'em. 

James  Ed'ward  got  his  done  fust,  and  he  raised 
his  hand  and  waved  it  and  snapped  it,  as  if  he 
was  crazy  to  let  everybody  know  how  smart  he 
was. 

The  teacher  waited  a  few  minutes  so's  to  give 
'em  plenty  of  time  ;  then  she  called  for  the  answer 
and  they  all  yelled  it  out  together,  loud  enough 
to  split  your  head  open.  There  was  quite  a  num 
ber  of  questions,  and  after  they  got  through  I  says 
to  the  teacher, 

"  I  hope  you'll  excuse  me,  marm,  but  I  should 
like  to  ask  if  it  wouldn't  be  more  comfortable  for 
you  and  the  scholars — save  your  narves  and  heads, 
as  it  were — if  you'd  have  'em  larn  these  lessons  in 
their  seats  by  studyin'  of  'em,  and  then  come  out 
in  the  floor  in  a  harnsome  line  and  recite  'em 
quiet  and  orderly,  like  rashional  bein's.  I  jest 
want  to  inquire,"  says  I. 

The  teacher  colored  up  as  red's  a  beet  and  I 
was  afraid  she  was  mad,  but  she  answered  me  very 
perlite. 


92  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

"  Our  method  is  new  to  you.  perhaps,  and  seems 
odd  ?" 

"  Yes,  it  does,  that's  a  fact ;"  says  I.  "  It  seems 
like  makin'  a  great  fuss  about  nothin'." 

"  I  hope  you  will  think  better  of  it  by  and  by, 
when  you  have  obsarved  its  workin's,"  says  she. 
I  thought  I  shouldn't  probably  do  no  sech  thing, 
but  I  didn't  say  so. 

Wall,  after  they  took  their  seats  the  teacher 
went  round  and  give  every  scholar  a  picter.  I 
see  James  Ed'ard's  was  a  picter  of  a  man  strut- 
tin'  along  in  the  rain  with  an  umbrell  over  his 
head.  A  lot  o'  folks  was  lookin '  after  him,  and 
underneath  was  printed,  "  Jonas  Hanway  and  His 
Umbrell? 

The  teacher  called  James  Ed'ard's  name  fust,  and 
he  marched  out  into  the  floor  as  big  as  life.  He 
looked  at  his  picter  a  minute  and  then  he  begun 
— he  pitched  his  voice  'way  up  high — and  says 
he, 

"  I  have  a  picter  of  a  man  with  an  umbrell ;  I 
see  some  folks  starin'  after  him  ;  three  girls  and 
a  man,  and  a  boy  with  a  baskit  over  his  head. 
The  man  feels  big  because  he's  got  the  only  um 
brell  in  town,  and  their  starin'  at  him  so  only 
makes  him  feel  all  the  bigger.  I  guess  he's  a 
stingy  old  chap  or  he'd  let  somebody  go  under 
along  of  him — looks  like  it,  anyway.  Go  it,  old 
Skinflint  !" 

Of  course  the  scholars  all  laughed,  and  the 
teacher  turned  to  explain. 

"You  see,  ladies,"  says  she,  "this  exercise 
brings  out  individooal  thought.  You  obsarvt 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  93 

also,  that  they're  allowed  perfeck  freedom  of  ex 
pression  ;  we  make  all  corrections  afterwards." 

"  They  do  express  themselves  powerful  free, 
that's  a  fact,  marm,"  says  I.  "  And  what  do  you 
call  this  exercise  ?" 

"  Oh,  it's  a  part  of  our  system  of  'objeck  teach- 
in','  "  says  she. 

"  Hum,  I  know  all  about  that,  jest  like  a  book. 
I've  had  it  afore.  That  man's  the  good  samari- 
tan.  He  was  the  best  o'  the  lot.  He  told  the 
landlord  to  take  the  poor  tramp  in  to  his  hotel 
and  do  up  his  sores  in  mutton  taller,  and  give  him 
everything  good  to  eat — gingerbread  and  candy 
and  peanuts,  you  know,"  lookin'  round  at  the 
other  boys,  "  and  he'd  foot  the  bills.  He  was  a 
brick — you  bet !" 

And  so  they  went  on — a  dozen  or  more  of  'em, 
and  it  did  seem  as  if  each  one  tried  to  say  somethin' 
more  redickerlous  than  the  rest.  I  couldn't  help 
laughin'  if  I  died  for't,  but  I  didn't  approve  on't 
by  no  manner  o'  means. 

The  singin'  master  come  in  before  they  got 
through  with  the  picters,  but  they  left  right  off 
and  hustled  them  away  in  a  hurry.  They  was  all 
smilin'  and  noddin'  to  him  as  if  they  was  dretful 
glad  to  see  him,  and  he  seemed  fond  of  them,  and 
talked  to  'em  as  if  he'd  been  their  par. 

"Now,"  says  he  "here's  the  '  Thanksgivin' 
Song ' — you  all  know  about  Thanksgivin'  ?" 

"  You  bet  we  do  !"  says  one,  and  "yes,  yes  !"  all 
over  the  room. 

"Wall,  then,"  says  he  "you  must  sing  this 
piece  extry  nice  to-day,"  and  after  they'd  sung  it 
he  pats  one  little  girl  on  the  head  and  looks 


94  ADVENTURES  OP  AN  OLD  MAID. 

round  on  'em  all  smilin',  and  says,  "  Well  done, 
well  done  !  How  would  you  like  to  play  you're 
all  my  children,  and  spread  a  great  big  table  right 
here,  and  have  our  thanksgivin'  all  together  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes  sir  !"  says  the  little  girl,  eager  as  can 
be,  "and  play  that  you  was  the  par  and  teacher 
was  the  mar,  and  we  was  all  your  little  girls  and 
boys !" 

"  Splendid  !"  says  the  singin'  master  ;  but  I 
noticed  he  seemed  kinder  cut  up,  and  he  set  'em 
to  singin'  agin  as  quick  's  he  could  convenient. 
We  found  out  afterwards  that  he  was  payin'  'ten- 
tion  to  the  teacher,  and  I  guess  them  scholars 
knew  it ! 

After  he'd  gone,  they  had  one  more  exercise,  and 
that  was  all.  Each  scholar  made  up  a  question 
in  'rithmetic,  and  some  on  'em  was  remarkable 
good,  I  must  say.  The  only  trouble  \vas,  that 
they  got  noisy  and  out  of  order,  same's  they  did 
about  everything  else.  They  didn't  seem  to  be 
afraid  o'  nobody  nor  nothin',  and  they  was  all 
wide-awake  and  sharp  and  keen  as  razors,  every 
one  of  'em.  I  couldn't  help  bein'  interested  in 
the  little  rogues,  and  I  should  admire  to  know 
how  they  all  turned  out  when  they  grew  up. 

This  was  one  little  girl's  example  :  "  If  I  weigh 
48  Ibs.  and  my  grandmar  weighs  150  Ibs.  and 
Mary  Jane  Cross  50  Ibs.,  what  is  the  sum  of  our 
weight  ?  Answer — 248  Ibs." 

"  But  I  don't  weigh  50  Ibs.,"  speaks  up  Mary 
Jane,  pert  as  you  please.  "  I  only  weigh  47  Ibs." 

"  I  do,"  says  another  ;  "  I  weigh  jest  50  Ibs.  ex 
actly." 

"  And  I  weigh  twenty,"  says  another.    They  ali 


ADVRNTURKS   OF  AAT  OLD  MAID.  95 

begun  to  tell  their  own  weight  and  their  grand 
mother's  and  everybody's  else,  all  hollerin'  to 
gether. 

The  teacher  couldn't  make  herself  heard  till  she 
rung  her  bell  loud  and  long.  Then  she  spoke  up 
to  'em  pretty  sharp,  and  they  simmered  down 
wonderful  quick,  I  must  say,  considerin'. 

When  they'd  got  through  with  all  their  doin's 
and  exercises,  I  riz  up  in  my  seat,  and  says  I,  "  If 
you  hain't  no  objections  I  should  like  to  ask  your 
scholars  a  few  common-sense  questions,"  says  I. 

Sofrony  she  pinched  my  arm  to  stop  me,  but  I 
didn't  mind  nothin'  about  her.  I  had  my  sus 
picions  that  there  was  some  things  outside  o'  their 
new  method  wuth  knowin'  that  hadn't  been 
'tended  to  in  that  school,  and  I  meant  to  show 
that  teacher  and  them  scholars  that  I  knew  a 
thing  or  two,  if  I  was  edicated  before  they  was 
born. 

The  teacher  seemed  very  willin'  to  'comrnodate 
me,  and  says, 

"  Oh,  sartinly,  ask  as  many  questions  as  you 
please." 

"  In  the  fust  place,"  says  I,  "can  I  have  the 
class  come  out  in  the  floor  and  toe  this  'ere  crack  ? 
I  do  think  it's  an  awful  lazy  way  for  'em  to  recite 
in  their  seats." 

"  Sartinly,  sartinly,"  says  she  again.  So  she 
called  'em  all  out  into  the  floor,  and  after  they'd 
tumbled  over  each  other  and  stepped  on  one 
'nother's  toes,  and  pushed  and  hauled  awhile,  I 
got  'em  into  somethin'  like  a  straight  line. 

"  Now,  children,"  says  I,  "'tend  to  me.  Who 
made  you  ? " 


9$  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

"Adam  and  Eve !  God!  George  Washing 
ton  !  "  they  shouted  before  the  question  was  fairly 
out  of  my  mouth. 

I  turned  round  and  looked  at  the  teacher,  but 
I  didn't  say  nothin'. 

"  It  was  ruther  onexpected,  perhaps,"  she  be 
gun  to  say. 

"They  orter  know  who  made  'em  any  time  !  " 
says  I,  short's  pie-crust. 

"  Children,"  says  I  next,  can  you  repeat  the 
Ten  Commandments  ?  " 

This  time  they  didn't  try  to  answer ;  they  jest 
looked  at  one  'nother  and  squirmed  round  and 
grinned. 

"  Perhaps  the  lady  will  kindly  repeat  'em  to 
you,"  says  the  teacher  very  perlite,  but  I  could 
see  that  she  thought  she'd  got  me." 

"  I  didn't  come  here  to  teach,"  says  I,  "  that's 
your  business.  I'm  simply  findin'out  what  these 
scholars  know  and  what  they  dont  know." 

Wall,  I  asked  'ern  a  number  o'  questions,  and 
they  couldn't  answer  one  on  'em  proper  ;  they 
couldn't  even  repeat  the  Ten  Commandments. 

"  There's  one  thing  we  can  do,"  says  I  when  1 
got  through  with  my  questions,  "  we  can  show 
'em  what  perliteness  is,  can't  we,  children  ?  Now 
all  put  your  hands  behind  ye  and  make  your  man 
ners — so"  says  I,  standin'  up  and  makin'  a  ham- 
some  bow.  "  I  want  you  to  do  it  all  together, 
unanymous,  and  then  turn  and  go  to  your  seats 
still's  mice,"  and  I  made  'em  do  it  ;  but  I  had  to 
work  a  while  fust.  They'd  never  done  it  before 
in  their  lives,  you  know. 

When  I  set  down  the   teacher  smiled,  and  says 


ADVENTURES  OF  Aiv   OLD   MAID.  97 

she,  "  You  ought  to  go  into  the  business, 
madam."  Now,  wasn't  it  real  nice  and  forgivin' 
in  her  to  say  that  after  I'd  took  her  down  so  ?  I 
think  she  must  have  had  an  oncommon  good  dis 
position  anyway. 

When  she'd  dismissed  the  school  and  we  was 
left  alone  I  shook  hands  with  her,  and  says  I, 
"  I'm  obleeged  to  ye  for  'lowin'  me  so  much 
liberty  with  your  scholars,  and  you  must  excuse 
me  if  I've  hurt  your  feelin's.  Don't  be  discour 
aged  ;  you^re  young  and  you'll  improve.  Only 
give  the  Ten  Commandments  and  a  few  other 
things  a  leetle  more  prominence  and  pay  more 
'tention  to  order — you  do  lack  order — that's  your 
great  failin'.  Why,  woman  alive  with  sech  bright, 
affectionate  children,  you  ought  to  be  able  to  keep 
per  feck  order." 

"  Madam,"  says  she,  straightenin'  up  a  little 
haughty,  "I  beg  leave  to  insist  that  my  scholars 
are  under  per  feck  control.  You  mistake  the 
freedom  of  our  system  for  disorder,  and  you  make 
a  great  mistake.  I  do  assure  you." 

"  You  can  assure  me  all  you  want  to,"  says  1, 
"  but  you  can't  deny  that  them  children  have 
acted  like  Sam  Hide  this  forenoon,  now  can  ye  ?  " 
says  I. 

"  I've  no  acquaintance  with  the  boy  you  men 
tion,"  says  she,  "  but  one  thing  is  sartin,  these 
same  scholars  that  you  find  so  bright  and  wide 
awake  to-day  would  appear  only  ordinary  under 
the  restrictions  of  the  old  method." 

Sofrony  she'd  been  nudgin'  me  and  makin1 
signs  to  me  to  come  along  for  some  time,  so  now 
I  says, 


98  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

"  Wall,  wall,  never  mind.  Let's  shake  hands 
agin  and  part  friends,  and  good  day  to  you." 

She  said  "  Good  day  "  as  pleasant  as  could  be, 
and  we  come  away. 

"  Sofrony,"  says  I  as  soon  as  we  was  out  o' 
hearin',  them  be  the  smartest  set  o'  boys  and  girls 
I  'bout  ever  come  acrost,  that's  a  fact.  I  wa'n't 
a  goin'  to  give  in  to  her,  ye  know,  but  between 
vou  'n  me,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  their  new  mctliod 
was  a  pretty  good  one  after  all,  only  they  had 
ought  to  learn  'em  the  Ten  Commandments  ;  I'll 
stick  to  that." 

"  Stick  to  it  then  all  you  want  to,"  snapped 
Sofrony,  "  but  for  my  part  I'm  all  wore  out,  and 
I  wish  to  massy  I  hadn't  a  gone  !  LV  let's  hurry 
home  and  git  a  good  cup  o'  tea  ! '' 


ADVENTURES   OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  99 


SHE  GOES  TO  THE   DENTIST. 

I  can't  say  I  like  these  ere  modern  improve 
ments  in  dentistry.  Years  ago,  old  Doctor 
Dwight  did  some  work  on  my  teeth,  and  I  re 
member  I  felt,  when  he  got  through,  as  if  it  had 
been  kind  of  a  mutual  thing,  and  he'd  suffered 
a'most  as  much  as  I  had  myself. 

He  pulled  out  one  tooth  and  filled  another, 
and — wall,  the  fillin'  didn't  hurt  much  ;  only  the 
scrapin'  and  borin'  ruther  tried  my  narves.  But 
on  the  whole,  't  want  a  great  sight  wuss  than 
cleanin'  up  a  kittle  that  plum  sass  or  hasty  pud- 
din'  has  burnt  onto.  But  the  pulliri ,  t/iat  was  a 
different  thing!  I  hild  on  to  the  chair  with  all 
my  might  and  main,  and  the  old  doctor  he  hild  on 
to  the  tooth,  and  when  he  give  the  final  jerk,  as 
you  might  call  it,  it  was  a  wonder  he  didn't  hist 
me  and  the  chair  and  all  clean  up  through  the 
sky  light  !  He  would  if  the  chair  hadn't  been 
fastened  down  pretty  strong. 

I  remember  I  give  one  groan,  enough  to  wake 
the  dead,  and  theie  stood  the  old  doctor  a 
sweatin'  and  puffin',  but  holdin'  up  my  tooth  in 
triump !  Then  he  and  me,  we  congratulated 
one 'nother,  and  I  went  away  feelin' that  we  was 
friends  and  feller  bein's. 

That's  a  good  many  years  ago,  as  I  said,  but 
the  other  day  I  had  'casion  to  go  to  the  dentist's 
agin,  and  as  Doctor  D wight  is  dead,  I  went  to  his 


100  ADVENTURES  OF  AN   OLD  MAID. 

successor,  naterally.  The  new  dentist  is  a  ham- 
some,  smart  lookin'  young  feller,  as  one  could 
wish  to  see,  and  he  'come  out  o'  his  little  room, 
smilin'  and  hummin'  a  tune.  His  shirtbosom  and 
wris'buns  was  as  white  as  snow,  and  he  looked 
spick  and  span  all  over.  He  was  a  master  nice, 
clean  lookin'  feller,  and  I  took  tew  him  to  once. 

Wall,  he  said  how't  he  could  tend  right  tew 
m€,  so  I  laid  off  my  bunnit  and  went  in  and  set 
down  in  his  big  chair,  and  watched  him  while  he 
was  gittin'  ready  for  me.  He  was  goin'  to  dew 
the  fillin'  fust,  he  said  ;  so  he  went  round  from 
one  drawer  to  another,  collectin'  his  things  to 
gether.  Fust  he  brought  out  a  great  tray  kiv- 
ered  with  little  steel  instruments  that  looked  jest 
like  croshay  hooks,  of  different  sizes  ;  then  a  little 
box  o'  gold  leaf  and  a  thin  sheet  of  injy  rubber. 

He  hummed  away  at  his  tune  all  the  time,  and 
seemed  as  happy  as  if  he  was  gittin'  ready  to  go 
and  see  his  girl.  I  told  him  so,  and  he  laughed 
but  didn't  say  nothin',  and  I  wondered  whuther  or 
no  he  was  a  married  man. 

When  he'd  got  all  his  tools  and  things  laid  out 
handy  he  brought  along  a  couple  of  nice,  clean, 
white  napkins  and  laid  'em  in  my  lap. 

"  Oh  la,  now,  you  take  them  away,  and  I'll  use 
my  handkerchif,"  says  I, — "  save  jest  so  much 
vvashin'  ye  know." 

"  Oh,"  says  he,  smilin,'  "  that's  no  consequence  : 
my  wife  does  her  own  washin'." 

So  he  was  married,  and  he  didn't  care  how  hard 
his  \vife  worked,  nuther  ! 

Wall,  the  next  thing  he  did  was  to  shove  a 
curis  lookin'  machine  up  alongside  o'  my  chair, 


ADVEN'l  UKES   OF  AN   OLD   MAID.  IOI 

and  after  examinin'  my  teeth  a  minnit  he  actew- 
ally  put  the  little  end  o'  that  machine  into  my 
mouth  and  vvorkin'  it  with  one  foot,  begun  to 
drill  away  at  my  tooth  as  if  I'd  been  a  stun  or  a 
statu' ! 

As  quick  as  it  begun  to  grind  and  buz,  I 
twitched  his  hand  away,  machine  and  all,  and 
says  I, 

"  Look  a'  here,  young  man,  I  ain't  use'ter  bein' 
run  by  machinery,  and  I  want  to  inquire  into  this 
a  little.  How  does  your  machine  know  when  to 
stop,  and  so  on  ?  What's  to  hender  it's  goin'  clear 
through  me,  as  you  might  say  ?" 

He  smiled  as  innercent  as  a  baby,  and  says  he, 
"  Oh,  I'll  look  out  for  it ;  it  shan't  do  any  harm,  I 
promise  you  !" 

Then  he  went  on  to  explain  how  it  was  the 
greatest  invention  of  the  age.  Said  "  all  the 
Icadin'  dentists  in  the  country  used  'em,"  and  so 
forth. 

"  If  that's  the  case,"  I  says  "go  ahead.  I'll  try 
to  be  accommodatin',  but  you  must  leave  off 
singin'  and  tend  right  to  your  machine  every  min 
nit,  and  I  do  hope  you'll  bear  in  mind  that  it's  a 
human  cretur,  and  not  a  stun,  that  you're  a  drillin' 
of." 

He  promised  he  would  and  in  a  few  minnitshe 
had  my  tooth  ready  to  fill.  Then  come  some- 
thin'  wust  of  all  yit.  He  picks  up  that  littk 
square  sheet  of  injy  rubber,  claps  it  inter  my 
mouth  quick's  a  wink,  and  stretches  it  over  my 
lower  jaw  somehow,  so  that  only  the  tooth  he 
was  workin'  on,  stuck  through,  and  fastens  it  down 
with  a  sort  of  clamp. 


102  ADVENTURES   OF  AN  OLD   MAID. 

At  fust  I  couldn't  breathe  nor  swaller — much 
less  speak — but  I  managed  to  let  him  know  by 
signs  and  fistin'  what  I  thought  on't,  and  he  be 
gun  to  explain  agin. 

"  It's  all  right,  I  assure  you,  madam,"  says  he, 
very  perlite,  "  and  you  won't  be  inconvenyenced 
after  you  git  a  little  'customed  to  it." 

"  Customed  to  it !"  thinks  I  to  myself,  "  I  shall 
die  fust !"  and  I  should  a'  gone  into  histericks, 
but  I  couldn't  laugh  with  that  thing  in  my  mouth, 
so  I  tried  to  carm  down  and  think  I  could  stan' 
it  if  other  folks  could.  But  I  never  suffered  so 
much  in  the  hull  course  o'  my  life  ;  and  I  cun'l 
say  I  was  in  actewal  pain  nuther  !  The  fact  was, 
I  was  mad!  I  wa'n't  willin'  to  be  run  by 
machinery,  as  I  said  afore,  nor  to  have  my  mouth 
filled  up  with  injy  rubber  or  any  pizen  thing  he 
see  fit  to  stuff  in  !  But  after  all,  I  blamed  sience 
the  most.  What  bizness  had  sience  to  go  and 
invent  sech  disagreeable,  disrespeckful  ways  o' 
tloin'  things ! 

Wall,  that  young  man  worked  away  half  an 
hour  as  if  he  enjoyed  every  minnit  of  it,  if  1 
didn't,  and  I  tried  to  be  patient,  knowin'  it 
couldn't  last  forever.  I  was  beginning'  to  git  into 
quite  a  resigned  and  comfortable  frame  o'  mind, 
when  all  to  once  he  stops  work  and  pricks  up  his 
ears  to  listen. 

Sure  enough,  there  was  a  hand  orgin  out  in 
the  street,  an  oncommon  good  one,  too,  and  it 
was  play  in'  a  tune  from  the  opery  of  "  Patience." 

"  How  'propriate,"  thinks  I  to  myself,  "that's 
jest  what  I'm  in  need  of — -patience''1 

Then,  what  does  that  dentist  do  but  drop  his 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  IO3 

croshay  hook  and  pick  up  his  hat  in  a  hurry. 
"  Excuse  me  one  moment,  madam,"  he  says  to 
me,  "and  don't  you  on  any  account  move  your 
head  or  stir  while  I'm  gone  ;  I'll  be  right  back." 
Upon  that,  he  runs  down  stairs  and  leaves  me  a 
settin'  there  with  my  mouth  propped  wide  open, 
wonderin'  what  had  struck  him  all  of  a  sudden. 

Wall,  I  waited  five  minnits  by  the  clock  and 
he  didn't  come  back.  I  begun  to  feel  worried 
about  him  ;  thought  p'raps  he'd  fell  in  a  fit,  or 
broke  his  neck  or  somethin'.  But  bimeby,  I  left 
off  worryin'  about  him  and  began  to  think  ex- 
cloosively  of  myself!  Oh,  how  tired  I  was  !  My 
neck  ached  and  my  jaws  ached,  and  I  was  in 
cramps  and  pains  all  over  !  I  didn't  dare  to  move 
much,  for  I  didn't  know  whatmischif  it  might  do, 
ye  know  ;  but  I  did  move  a  little  mite,  and  then  I 
set  and  waited  fifteen  minnits  or  so  more,  till  I 
couldn't  stan'  it  no  longer.  Then  I  kicked  over 
his  old  drillin'  machine  and  the  tray  of  croshay 
hooks,  and  got  up  and  looked  out  o'  the  winder. 

As  true  as  I'm  a  livin'  woman,  there  stood  that 
dentist  on  the  sidewalk  smokin'  a  cigar  and 
watchin'  a  performin'  bear  !  The  hand  orgin  was 
still  playin'  lively,  and  there  was  quite  a  crowd  o' 
men  and  boys  gethered  round,  but  there  wa'n't 
one  o'  the  lot  enjoyin'  himself  so  much  as  my 
dentist  ! 

Oh,  I  was  ravin',  tear  in  mad  !  I'd  a  gin  a  dol 
lar  bill  in  a  minnit  to  been  able  to  speak  to  him, 
but  I  couldn't  ye  know,  on  account  o'  the  injy 
rubber,  so  I  took  my  sun-shade  and  pounded  on 
the  winder  like  all  possesst. 

When    he  turned  and  see  me,  he  bust  out    a 


IO4  ADVENTURES  OF  AN   OLD   MAID. 

laughin'  !    I  s'pose  I  did  look  redickerlous  enough 
but  wan't  it  aggravatin' ! 

As  quick  as  he  come  in  I  pulled  at  the  old  injy 
rubber  and  tore  round,  till  he  see  it  had  got  to 
come  out  to  once.  My  face  was  hot  as  fire,  and 
I  guess  he  suspicioned  he'd  ketch  it  whenever  I 
could  speak,  for  he  was  the  longest  while  gettin' 
on't  out  o'  my  mouth — tellin'  me  all  the  time  in 
that  smooth  way  o'  his'n  how  sorry  he  was  and 
so  on. 

"  Madam,"  says  he,  kinder  mournful  like,  "  I've 
been  subjeck  to  sech  fits  of  abstrackshun  for  a 
number  o'  years,  and  my  wife  she's  beginnin'  to 
feel  worried  about  me." 

I  told  him  I  should  think  she  would,  and  ad* 
vised  him  as  a  friend  to  take  somethin'  for  'em 
right  off,  or  they  might  git  him  into  trouble,  and 
he  promised  me  he'd  do  so.  He  urged  me  to 
stop  and  have  the  job  finished. 

"  Why,"  says  he,  "  I'll  willingly  dew  it  for 
nothin'  ruther'n  have  you  go  off  so." 

"  Young  man,"  says  I,  "  I'm  'bleeged  to  ye,  but 
if  you'd  pull  out  every  tooth  in  my  head  for 
nothin',  I  wouldn't  stay  five  minnits  longer.  I'm 
all  wore  out,  and  the  sooner  I  git  home  the 
better." 

That  was  all  I  said.  I  hadn't  the  heart  to  scold 
him  after  I  heerd  about  them  Jits.  "  Poor  ere- 
tur,"  thinks  I  to  myself,  "  I  don't  wonder  your 
wife  feels  worried  about  ye." 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  IO$ 


THE  SCHOOL  OF  PHILOSOPHY. 


Cousin  Tripheny  she  went  down  to  old 
cord  this  summer,  and  'tended  the  School  o' 
Filosofy  ;  so  when  she  come  back  she  was 
chuck  full  on't.  Between  you'n  me  I  don't 
believe  she  had  much  idee  of  what  it  all 
meant,  but  she  thought  it  was  a  great  thing,  any 
way,  and  she  talked  so  much  about  it  to  the 
sewin'  circle  and  the  litterary  meetin's  that  she 
created  quite  a  fury,  and  bimeby  nothin'  would 
dew  but  we  must  have  a  Wimmiris  School  o' 
Filosfy  there  in  Craney  Holler.  So  one  afternoon 
Tripheny  and  Mis'  Giddins  they  come  down  to 
my  house  together  to  talk  it  over  with  me  ;  they 
wanted  me  to  jine  ;  in  fact,  they  invited  me  to  be 
the  "  deen  "  or  deeness,  same's  Perfessor  Harris 
was,  you  know. 

"  All  these  things  have  a  head''  says  Tripheny, 
"and  to  my  mind,  you,  Ruth  Ann,  are  peremi- 
nently  suited  to  fill  that  high  posishion." 

"  I  declare  I'm  obleeged  to  ye,"  says  I  (for  I 
did  'predate  the  honor  and  no  mistake),  "  but  I 
don't  feel  as  if  I  was  fit.  I'm  free  to  confess  that  1 
don't  know  nothin'  about  the  things  they  discussed 
on  to  them  meetin's  this  summer  more'n  the  cat 
does.  I  tried  faithful  to  read  some  o'  the  lecturs  re 
ported  in  the  newspapers,  but  I  had  to  give  'em  up. 
I  think's  like  enough  they  was  too  deep  for  rne; 


106  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

but  I  wouldn't  be  afraid  to  ventur'  my  repertation 
as  a  sensible  woman,  that  there  wa'n't  one  single 
practical  idee  to  the  bottom  on  'em  !  Anc5 
what's  the  use  o'  breakin'  your  neck  to  go  so 
awful  deep,  when  there  aint  nothin'  wuth  goin 
after !" 

'  Oh,  wall,"  says  Tripheny,  sniffin'  and  fidgetin' 
round  in  her  chair,  "if  you  feel  that  way,  we 
can't  do  anything  with  you,  of  course,  but  I'm 
real  disappinted.  Ruth  Ann,  I  am  disappinted  !" 

She  looked  so  sorter  took  down  and  reproach 
ful  that  I  felt  bad  for  her.  So  after  thinkin'  a 
minnit — "  See  here,"  says  I,  "if  you'll  le'mme  se- 
ieck  some  of  your  subjecks  I  dunno'  but  what  I'll 
consent  to  sarve,  and  be  your  what-ye-may-call-it 
• — Deeness — is  it  ?'' 

Upon  that  they  both  brightened  up.  "Agreed, 
of  course,"  they  says ;  "  now  lets  perceed  to 
business." 

So  we  went  on  to  consider  who  should  belong 
to  it. 

Tripheny  said  it  was  best  to  invite  all  them  we 
wanted  to  have  jine,  so's  to  keep  out  "  the  rabble." 

"There  wa'n't  no  rabble  to  the  Concord 
School,  I  tell  you,"  says  she.  "And  furthermore 
there  .can't  be  no  young  girls  ;  that  is,  no  good 
lookiri  ones.  There  wa'n't  a  single  decent  lookin' 
woman  in  the  hull  Concord  School !  /  was 
the  best  lookin'  one  o'  the  lot ;  and  you  know  I 
haint  got  no  beauty  to  brag  on,"  she  said, 
laughin'.  (She  is  mortal  homely.) 

"  If  that's  the  case,"  says  I,  "  p'raps  /  ain't 
homely  enough." 

"  Oh  la,  you'll  dew,"  says  Mis'  Giddins. 


ADVENTURES   OF  AN  OLD   MAID  IO? 

"  That's  all  right,"  says  Tripheny. 

They  vva'n't  so  complimentary  as  they  might 
be,  but  I  didn't  care  for  that ;  I  had  an  objeck  in 
view. 

"  But  I  dunno,"  says  I,  hangin'  back  ;  "  I  ain't 
willin'  to  shet  out  the  young  and  harnsome ; 
they'd  orter  have  priveleges  same's  other  folks. 
My  idee  is,  that  harnsome  girls  is  naterally  jest 
as  bright  and  sensible  as  homely  ones.  The 
trouble  is,  we  set  sech  high  vally  on  beauty,  that 
we're  apt  to  think  nater  can't  afford  to  give  brains 
along  with  it,  and  so  don't  look  for  'em.  Better 
give  the  pretty  girls  a  chance,"  says  I. 

"  Dew  have  everything  your  own  way  then  !" 
snapped  Tripheny,  kinder  out  o'  patience.  Then 
she  laughed  and  shrugged  up  her  shoulders,  and 
says  she, 

"  After  all,  I  ain't  one  mite  afeared  any  harn 
some  girls  '11  want  to  jine — bein's  there  ain't  no 
men  folks  in  the  consarn." 

"That's  so,"  says  Mis'  Giddins. 

Wall,  we  went  ahead  and  orginized,  and  the 
upshot  on't  was,  that  we  held  our  fust  meetin'  the 
next  Tuesday  evenin'  in  the  old  yeller  school- 
house  at  the  middle  o'  the  town. 

As  Tripheny  was  the  founder  of  the  school 
she  picked  out  the  fust  subjeck  and  handed  it 
round  aforehand,  so's'  all  the  members  might 
be  perpared.  Her  subjeck  was  "Molecules? 
When  I  heard  it  I  says,  "Molecules!  for  the 
land's  sake,  what  be  them  ?  Some  kind  o'  ani 
mals  I  s'pose ;  but  who  knows  anything  about 
'em  r 

"  You're  mistakened  ;  they  ain't  animals,"  says 


108  ADVENTURES   OF  AN   OLD   MAID. 

Tripheny,  shettin'  her  lips  together,  and  lookin' 
awful  knovvin'. 

"  I  dew  hope  and  trust,  Tripheny,"  says  I,  "  that 
you've  chose  a  good  moral  subjeck."  (To  tell  the 
truth,  I  hain't  no  great  opinion  of  Tripheny's 
judgment.) 

She  tossed  up  her  head  a  good  mind  to  bemad, 
and  says  she, 

"It  was  one  o'  the  fust  Concord  subjecks,  any 
way  ;  and  I  guess  what's  good  enough  for  them 
orter  be  good  enough  for  us  /" 

"  All  right,"  says  I,  "  only  I'm  afraid  you'll 
have  to  dew  most  o'  the  talkin'  and  explatteratin' 
yourself.  Seem's  if  some  more  common  subjeck 
would  a'  been  better  for  the  fust." 

"No  sech  thing!"  she  says.  "Let  'em  study 
it  up.  It'll  dew  'em  good  to  use  their  brain,}  a 
little  !  They  can  all  go  to  the  dictionary,  a.ad 
there's  other  books.  Then,  some  on  'em  has  got 
college  edjicated  husbands  ;  they  orter  know  some- 
thin'  about  molecules,"  says  she. 

Wall,  I  didn't  make  much  preperation  for  the 
meetin'  myself  ;  it  wa'n't  necessary.  I  was  the 
deeness,  you  know,  and  my  main  business  was  to 
set  on  the  platform  and  keep  'em  in  order,  &c. 
I  wa'n't  obliged  to  diskuss  unless  I  wanted 
to. 

When  the  meetin'  was  fairly  throwed  open,  I 
called  on  the  Square's  wife  to  speak  fust,  and 
stated  that  afterwards  I  hoped  the  others  would 
all  feel  free  to  take  part  and  arger  and  diskuss 
promisc'ous. 

When  I  set  down,  the  Square's  wife  riz  up  and 
crossed  her  arms  over  her  stummuck,  awful  im- 


ADVENTURES   OF  A  A'  OLD   MAID.  I0g 

posin'  and  digherfied,  and  begun  jest  as  she  al- 
wers  does  to  the  prayer  meetins  ! 

"  My  dear  brutheren  and  sisters,  I  feel—  •"  birt 
here  Tripheny  stopped  her  by  givin'  her  a  tre- 
men  jus  nudge. 

"  Molecules  /  molecules  !  "  whispered  Tripheny, 
to  remind  her  where  she  was  and  what  a  dewin'. 

The  Square's  wife  looked  at  her  savage  as  a 
meat  ax,  and  begun  agin  jest  as  she  did  afore, 
exackly. 

"  My  dear  brutheren  and  sisters,  I  feel  as  if 
the  subjeck  afore  us  this  evenin'  was  a  very  mo* 
mentuous  one — very," 

Tripheny  drawed  in  a  long  breth,  and  every 
body  leaned  forrard  and  listened. 

"  I've  give  this  subjeck  all  the  attention  that 
my  multiflorious  dooties  would  allow,  and  I  con 
fess  I  find  it  a  deep  one — an  awful  deep  one." 

As  nigh  as  I  can  make  out,  molecules  is  minuti- 
cal  small  ;  smaller  than  a  grain  o'  sand  or  a  mote 
in  a  sunbeam,  and  a  muskeeter's  eye  is  big  'long 
side  o'  one  !  Fact  is,  you  can't  see  a  molecule, 
nor  begin  ter,  not  with  the  naked  eye." 

Here  she  stopped  a  minnit  to  take  a  pinch  o' 
snuff,  and  Mis'  Deacon  Jones  broke  in  : 

"  If  that's  the  case,"  said  she,  sniffin'  up  her 
nose  contemptewous,  "  I  shouldn't  consider  'em 
wuth  mentionin'.  Any  thing  you  can't  see  at  all 
with  the  naked  eye  must  be  pooty  small  pertaters. 
There's  plenty  o'  bigger  things  to  talk  about ; 
why  not  take  an  animal  with  some  size  tew  it  ?" 

The  Square's  wife  give  her  a  witherin'  look. 
"  It's  plain  to  be  seen,"  says  she,  "  that  you  are 
mournfully  ignorant  of  the  hull  subjeck.  There- 


110  ADVENTURES  OF  AN   OLD  MAID. 

fore  and  consequentially  you  undervally  it.  But 
small  things  ain't  to  be  despised  by  no  manner  o 
means.  Have  you  forgot  how  St.  Paul  says, 
'  Take  care  d  the  minutes  and  the  hours  will 
take  care  d  themselves '  ?  and  agin  the  butiful 
poim  that  begins,  '  Little  drops  of  water '  ? 
More  'n  all,  have  you  forgot  (though  it's  doubt 
ful  if  you  ever  knew)  the  proverb,  '  Many  a  little 
makes  a  mickle,1  which  is  Latting  for  much  ! 
That's  it  :  Many  molecules  make  a  big  thing. 
Besides,  and  moreover,  molecules  is  in  every 
thing." 

She  stopped  to  take  another  pinch  o'  snuff  (she's 
an  awful  snuff-taker),  and  Tripheny  thinkin' 
she'd  said  'bout  enough  picks  it  up  and  goes 
on. 

"  There's  one  very  sollum  thought  occurs  to 
my  mind  in  connection  with  this  subjeck,"  says 
she,  "  and  that  is  that  the  soul  o'  man,  as  many 
believe,  was  originally  a  molecule — a  mere 
speritooal  atom  as  it  were — and  now  see  the  grand 
thing  it  has  growed  to  be  !" 

"  Hum  !"  says  Mis'  Deacon  Jones,  "  that's  easy 
enough  to  believe ;  some  on  'em  hain't  growed  a 
bit  to  this  day  !  But  when  you  undertake  to  tell 
me  that  them  ere  molecules  is  in  everything,  I 
can't  swaller  it,  and  whafs  more,  I  wont !  "  says 
she,  gittin'  excited. 

I  rapped  on  the  table,  and  says  very  firm,  "  Let 
us  obsarve  becomin'  order  and  dignerty  in  this 
'ere  school,  ladies." 

"  Wall,"  says  the  deacon's  wife,  carmin'  down 
a  grain,  "  I  should  like  to  ask  the  Square's  wife 
one  question." 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  Ill 

"  Sartingly,"  says  the  Square's  wife  dretful  con- 
descendin' ;  "  as  many  as  you  please." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,  then,  that  there's 
moelcules  in  my  currant  jell  that  I  had  ter  bile 
three  mortal  hours  by  the  clock  (for  the  currants 
was  too  ripe,  and  it  wouldn't  jell  a  minnit  sooner)  ? 
I  s'pose  now  that  there  jell  is  full  o'  them  cret- 
urs,  alive  and  kickin'  ?"  says  she,  sarcastic.  "  I 
s'pose  no  amount  o'  bilin'  would  kill  'em  ?  " 

"  Ondoubtedly,"  says  the  Square's  wife,  "  for 
'cordin  to  science  they're  alwers  in  motion, 
and  if  they  was  biled  dead,  how  could  they 
move  ?  You  cant  kill  'em."  So  say  in'  she 
looked  round  in  triump. 

"  Wall,  then,"  says  the  deacon's  wife,  most  a 
cryin'  "all  I've  got  to  say  is  that  they're  horrid 
pesky  creturs,  and  no  credit  to  science  -nor  Pro 
vidence  nuther ! " 

That  remark  did  sound  kind  o'  unchristian  for 
a  deacon's  wife  to  make,  didn't  it  ?  We  was  all 
shocked,  and  Tripheny  jumped  up  in  a  hurry 
and  says  she  : 

"  Massy  sakes  alive  !  you  don't  think  mole 
cules  is  real  animals,  dew  ye  ?  Why,  don't  the 
dictionary  say  distinckly  that  they're  particles  o' 
matter,  and  they  haint  no  signs  of  life  about  'em, 
only  they  have  motion,  that's  all !  'Twouldn't 
hurt  ye  if  you  should  swaller  a  mote  from  a  sun 
beam,  would  it  ?  Wall,  molecules  is  jest  the 
same,  only  smaller." 

"  Oh,  la,  now,  I  dew  feel  relieved  !"  says  Mis' 
Jones.  "  I  s'posed  they  was  somethin'  like  em 
mets,  and  emmets  I  hate  wuss'n  pizen  ?  But 
some  folks"  with  a  meanin'  nod  towards  the 


H2  ADVENTURES   OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

Square's  wife,  "  orter  know  a  leetle  grain  more 
before  they  undertake  to  instruck  their  nabors." 

The  Square's  wife  she  never  took  no  notice ; 
she  just  set  down  and  pulled  out  her  knittin'  and 
went  to  work. 

There  wan't  many  more  speakers,  and  when 
they  got  done  we  wound  up  with  a  kind  of  so 
ciable  pow-wow,  and  everybody  got  to  feelin' 
pleasant  and  happy  as  could  be. 

When  the  clock  struck  nine  I  riz  up  and 
pounded  on  the  table. 

"  Ladies  o'  the  Craney  Holler  School  o'  Fil- 
osophy,"  says  I  :  "The  subjeck  to  be  discussed  at 
our  next  session  is  one  of  an  altogether  different 
natur'  from  that  we  have  considered  to-night ;  to 
wit,  namely — '  Wimmiris  Extravagance  :  and  be 
the  Men  to  Blame  for't?"  They  all  seemed  to 
think  favorable,  for  they  clapped  their  hands  and 
looked  dretful  pleased. 

Then  we  ajourned. 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID, 


THE  DEACON'S  WIFE  SPEAKS. 

At  the  close  of  the  fust  meetin'  of  the  "  Wim- 
min's  School  o'  Filosofy,"  you'll  remember  that  I 
'nounced  the  next  subjeck  as  "  Wimmin's  Ex 
travagance  ;  and  wherein  be  the  men  to  blame 
for't  ?" 

Wall,  the  deacon's  wife  she  come  right  down 
the  next  day  to  see  me  and  talk  it  over.  She 
was  'mazin'  exercised  about  it. 

"  Ruth  Ann,"  says  she  to  me,  shakin'  her  head 
dubious,  "  I'm  awful  'fraid  this  ere  school  of 
ourn  is  goin'  to  make  a  rumpus  twixt  us  and  the 
men-folks,  ain't  you?  Specially  if  we  go  to 
layin'  blame  onto  'em  for  any  of  our  doin's, 
they'll  feel  dretful  crossgrained  and  hard  agin  us, 
and  massy  knows  'tain't  any  tew  easy  to  git  along 
with  some  on  'em  now.  I,  for  one,  don't  say  for 
dewin'  anything  to  stir  'em  up  and  git  'em  mad. 
The  deacon  don't  'prove  o'  this  school  no  way. 
He's  been  pickin'  out  chapters  for  family  devo 
tions  this  fortnight  all  bearin'  on  female  submis 
sion,  and  so  on.  This  mornin'  I  spunked  up  and 
told  him  I  didn't  think  the  'postle  Paul's  opinion 
o'  wimmin's  duty  amounted  to  shucks. 

"  What  does  an  old  bachelder  know  'bout  wim- 
min  ?"  says  I. 

"  'And  what  does  a  pack  of  old  maids  know 
'bout  men  /'  says  he,  firin' up.  "Wan't  that  real 
mean,  Ruth  Ann  ?" 


114  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

I  laughed.  "Mis'  Jones,"  says  I,  "you  might 
a  told  him  that  we  know  all  we  wanter  know 
'bout  men,  unless  it's  better !  But  we  needn't 
fret  ;  our  school  ain't  a  wimmin's  rights  consarn 
by  no  manner  o'  means,  and  you  can  explain  to 
him,  that  we  should  a'  invited  the  men  to  jine, 
only  we  felt  kinder  modest  ;  thought  we  could  do 
better  by  ourselves  ;  same's  female  prayer  meetin', 
you  know.  How  could  we  git  up  and  say  any 
thing  in  the  presence  of  our  sooperiors?" 
says  I. 

"Oh  now  you're  makin'  fun  o'  the  men  !"  says 
the  deacon's  wife,  laughin',  "  and  I  don't  blame 
you.  They're  a  consaited,  pigheaded  lot  !  and  I 
will  say  it,  if  /  be  a  married  woman  !"  says  she, 
lookin'  over  her  shoulder  to  make  sure  the  deacon 
wa'n't  nowheres  round. 

"There's  lots  o'  good  men  in  the  world," 
says  I,  carm  and  candid. 

"  Oh,  the  deacon's^y^enough,  for  that  matter, 
but  I'd  ruther  he'd  be  a  little  more  agreeable,  if 
he  wa'n't  so  awful  good  !" 

"  That's  a  little  mite  hard  on  the  deacon,"  says 
I,  laughin'. 

"  I  don't  care  if  'tis  !"  she  snapped.  "  It's  the 
truth,  any  way  !"  Then  she  went  on  with  her 
knittin'  and  seemed  to  feel  better. 

"  This  subjeck  you've  picked  out  is  a  fustrate 
one,"  she  resoomed  bimeby  ;  "but  there's  a  good 
many  ways  o'  lookin'  at  it,  I  guess." 

"  Yes,"  says  I  ;  "extravagance  is  a  word  that's 
been  misapplied  and  'bused  about  as  much  as  any 
w^rd  in  the  English  language.  Mean,  stingy 
folk*  call  that  extravagant  that  ain't  only  jest 


A&VEN1URES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  11$ 

comfortable  ;  and  then  agin  what's  extravagant 
for  the  poor  to  do,  ain't  only  jest  right  and  propei 
for  rich  folios  ;  don't  you  see?" 

"  Yes,  1  dew,"  says  the  deacon's  wife,  "and  that's 
what  riles  me  so  when  the  deacon  insists  on  my 
skimpin'  and  pinchin'  as  a  dooty.  If  we  wan't 
well  off,  with  money  in  the  bank,  I  wouldn't  say 
a  \vord.  But  Ruth  Ann,  I  tell  you — I  wouldn't 
dars  to  say  it  to  everybody — the  way  that  man 
contrives  to  save  does  beat  all ! 

"  Sometimes  his  notions  is  laughable  !  The  hat 
he  wore  when  we  was  married,  and  for  a  good 
many  years  afterwards  too,  is  up  in  the  garret 
'long  with  other  old  things  that's  laid  there  this 
thirty  year,  for  he  never  'lows  me  to  give  a  thing 
away  ;  says  everything  comes  in  course  some  time. 
But  this  hat  is  a  white  stovepipe — jest  sech  a 
hat  as  Yankee  Jonathan  always  wears  in  Mister 
Nast's  picters.  I  spose  it  looked  all  right  in  the 
day  on't — but  noiv — oh,  dear  ! 

"  Wall,  every  spring  in  house  cleanin'  time, when 
I'm  up  garret  puttin'  things  to  rights  up  he 
comes  reg'lar,  to  make  sure  all  his  old  sculch  is 
safe  !  His  stove  funnels  and  cracked  cider  jugs, 
and  old  cart  wheels — oh,  and  I'd  o'rter  mentioned 
long  with  the  hat,  a  black  silk  vest  with  picters  of 
George  Washin'ton  all  over  it.  It  used  to  be  his 
uncle's,  and  he  left  it  there  when  he  died  ;  it's  all 
ragged  now,  a  sight  to  see. 

"  Wall,  year  after  year,  as  sure  as  the  spring  and 
house  cleanin'  comes  round,  the  deacon  follers  me 
up  garret,  and  the  fust  thing  he  spies  out  is  gin* 
erally  the  old  hat.  He  picks  it  up,  puts  it  on  his 
head  and  turns  to  me  and  says,  very  severe  : 


il6  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

"  '  Betsey,  what's  the  matter  with  this  ere  hat  f 
Why  is  it  laid  one  side  ? ' 

"  And  I  laugh  invariable  and  say,  '  Why,  John 
Henry,  how  forgitful  you  be  !  don't  you  know 
that  'ere  was  your  weddin'  hat  ?  it's  been  up  here 
this  thirty  year. ' 

"  '  Is  that  so  ?'  says  he,  takin'  it  off  and  lookin' 
at  it.      '  But     I   don't     see    as  anything   ails    \\ 
good  enough  to  wear  to  rthe  barn  any  way.' 

"  So  he  puts  the  redickerlous  thing  on  his  head 
and  goes  on  rummagin'  round. 

"  Bimeby  he  comes  acrost  the  old  vest  hangin'  in 
a  corner,  takes  it  down,  looks  it  over  careful  and 
finally  puts  that  on  tew,  top  of  his  stri-ped  frock, 
and  comes  to  me  and  says  agin  severer  than  ever: 

"  '  I  tell  ye  now,  Betsey,  once  for  all,  we  can't 
afford  to  throw  away  good  clo'es,  and  I  wont 
have  it !  What's  the  matter  o'  this  ere  vest  ?' 

"Then,  Ruth  Ann,  I -look  up  at  him  standin' 
there — you  know  how  fat  he  is,  and  what  a  fig- 
ger — with  that  short  waisted  rag  of  a  vest  but 
toned  acrost  his  stummuck,  and  his  stri-ped  frock 
hangin'  down,  his  blue  overhalls  tucked  into  his 
boots,  and  that  weddin'  hat  set  one  side  of  his 
head — and  I  jest  laugh,  and  screech,  and  holler, 
Jill  I'm  'bout  givn  out ;  and  the  deacon  gits  mad 
and  tarin',  and  like  enough  the  white  stovepipe 
rolls  off  on  to  the  floor,  or  the  valooable  vest 
splits  out  somewheres,  and  that  tickles  me  all  the 
more  ! 

"  Then  the  deacon  sets  tew  and  lecturs  me,  and 
ginerally  winds  up  by  sayin': 

"  '  A  pooty  deacon's  wife  you  be  !  you've  got 
'bout  as  much  dignerty  as  a  four  year  old  colt !' 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN   OLD  MAID.  117 

"But  I  can't  help  it,"  says  she  ;  "  it's  enough  to 
make  Lot's  wife  laugh,  after  she  was  turned  into 
the  pillar  of  salt  !" 

When  we  had  got  done  laughin'  the  deacon's 
wife  wiped  her  eyes  and  turned  to  me  real  serious. 
"  Ruth  Ann,"  she  says,  "  I  come  over  a'  purpose 
to  see  about  that  next  meetin'  of  ourn.  I  tell 
you  I  ain't  a-goin'to  let  the  Square's  wife  set  clown 
on  ire  agin — and  don't  you  forgit  it  !  I  reckon 
I  know  as  much  about  this  subjeck  as  what  she 
does.  But  there,  I've  done  all  the  talkin'  so  fur, 
now  I'll  keep  still  and  give  you  a  chance." 

"  I  reckon,"  says  I,  "that  a  good  many  folks  is 
accused  o'  bein'  extravagant  that  ain't  so  at  all. 
There's  them  Dodge  girls  on  the  hill  ;  you  know 
how  stylish  and  well  dressed  they  alwers  look, 
specially  Mariar,  the  oldest  one.  Wall,  she's 
harnsome  as  a  picter'  to  begin  with — got  one  o' 
them  nateral  pink  and  white  complexion-s  that'll 
wash  and  bile,  as  you  might  say,  and  a  figger  that 
don't  need  no  five  dollar  corsets  to  fetch  it  into 
shape,  and  whatever  she  puts  on  she  looks  dressed 
out  to  kill,  don't  she  ?  I've  heard  the  Square's 
Lizy  Jane  say  many  a  spiteful  thing  'bout  Mariar 
Dodge's  extravagance,  when  the  fact  is,  Mariar 
never  pertends  to  wear  anything  better'n  a  cash' 
meer  in  winter  or  a  pretty  muslin  in  summer. 

"  But  it  takes  silks  and  satings  and  all  creation  to 
rig  out  Lizy  Jane,  and  then  she  looks  more  like  a 
feather  bed  with  a  string  tied  round  the  middle 
than  anything  else.  Though  she  ain't  to  blame 
for  her  looks  as  I  know  on." 

"  No,"  says  the  deacon's  wife,  "only  its  a  pity 
she  can't  be  a  leetle  more  pleasant  in  her  ways,  to 


IlS  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD 

kinder  make  up  for  bein'  so  homely.  But  I've 
noticed,  that,  as  a  general  thing,  the  \vuss  folks 
look,  the  more  disagreeable  tney  act.  Now,  1 
never  see  a  hunchback  in  my  life,  that  wa'n't  as 
consaited  and  hateful  as  he  could  be." 

"  There  may  be  some  truth  in  that,"  says  I  ;  "  I've 
often  thought  so  myself.  But  let's  consider  the 
last  part  of  our  subjeck, — '  wherein  be  the  men  to 
blame  ?' " 

"  Oh,  wall,"  says  the  deacon's  wife,  rollin'  up 
her  knittin'  and  gettin'  ready  to  go,  "  I  guess  per 
haps  we  married  wimmri  hadn't  better  arger  that 
pint  much.  We'll  kinder  talk  round  it  and  lead 
tip  teiv  it — as  it  were — and  then  you  and  Sera- 
phine  and  the  rest  o'  the  young  girls  can  take 
hold.  Not  that  I'm  afraid,  but,  as  I  said  afore, 
I  don't  want  to  create  no  hard  feelin's  among  the 
men." 

When  she  got  to  the  door,  though,  she  looked 
back,  and  says  she  : 

"  All  the  same,  Ruth  Ann,  if  the  Square's  wife 

happens  to  pitch  into  the  men  Tuesday  night,  1 

shall   foller  soot  !     She  ain't  a-goin'  to  git  ahead 

o'  me   this  time,  not  if  the  deacon  sues  for  a  di- 

7oice  the  very  next  mornin' !" 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  119 


MODERN  IMPROVEMENTS. 

Some  o'  these  ere  modern  improvements  don't 
amount  to  much,  'cordin'  to  my  way  o'  thinkin1. 
But  it  is  wonderful,  and  no  mistake,  how  many 
inventions  and  machines  there  is  now-day s.  I 
think's  likely  the  time  is  comin'  when  machines 
'11  do  all  the  work  and  run  themselves!  And 
what  a  heaven  upon  'arth  that  will  be  for  lazy 
folks,  won't  it !  Haymakers  can  lay  on  the  grass 
then,  and  drink  molasses  and  water  all  the  time, 
and  hired  girls  can  look  out  o'  the  winder  and 
chew  gum  from  mornin'  till  night.  But  I'm 
kinder  old  fashioned,  and  these  new  fangled 
things  put  me  out  and  plague  me  enough  sight 
more  'n  they  help  me. 

I  don't  want  no  patent  coffy-pots  nor  meat- 
bakers  nor  steamers.  No,  nor  ile  stoves — scentin1 
up  the  house  and  takin'  away  your  appertite  before 
hand  ;  nor  gas  stoves,  to  be  bustin'  when  you 
least  expect.  Nothin'  o'  the  kind  for  me  !  I 
couldn't  git  a  decent  meal  o'  vittles  with  'em  to 
save  my  life.  Them  that  wants 'em  can  have 'em 
for  all  me  !  But  I've  seen  a  good  many  articles  o' 
furnitoor,  easy  chairs  and  lounge-bedstids,  and  so 
on,  that  was  real  comfortable.  Then  agin,  there 
is  some  so-called  patent  comforts  that  is  tortures, 
and  the  men  that  invented  'em  orter  be  hung. 

When  I  was  in  Jersey  visitin'  my  nefew,  John 


I2O  ADI'EtfTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

Longly,  he  had  jest  bought  out  a  patent  head-rest 
consarn,  and  he  was  all  carried  away  with  it. 
Thought  it  was  goin'  to  make  his  fortin'  in  no 
time.  It  was  a  contrivance  to  screxv  on  to  the 
back  of  a  chair,  or  any  kind  of  seat,  so's  you 
could  lean  back  somethin'  like  lyin'  down.  It  was 
specially  designed  for  folks  travellin'  in  the  cars. 

Wall,  I  found  out  after  I'd  been  with  'em  a 
while  that  Mary,  his  wife,  was  a  perfeck  marter 
to  that  machine.  She  told  me  as  much  herself. 
Said  whenever  they  went  to  any  public  place,  or 
rode  in  the  cars,  John  alwers  took  some  'o  the 
head-rests  along,  and  made  her  set  with  her  head 
screwed  into  one,  to  advertise  'em.  And  she  said 
it  was  awful,  the  pain  she  suffered.  But  she  didn't 
dars  to  complain,  for  fear  John  would  think  she 
didn't  take  no  interest. 

One  day  there  was  an  excursion  on  the  cars, 
ever  so  many  miles  out  into  the  country,  and  John 
invited  Mary  and  me  to  go.  I  was  pleased  with 
the  idee,  and  Mary  would  'a'  been,  only  for  dread- 
in'  the  head-rest. 

"Oh,  dear,  Ruth  Ann,"  says  she,  "I  thinks 
likely  he'll  put  one  on  to  both  of  us !" 

"  Don't  worry !"  says  I,  shettin'  my  teeth  to 
gether  like  a  trap,  so  I  shouldn't  let  out  no  more. 

You  see  I'd  thought  the  thing  over,  and  I'd 
made  up  my  mind  to  larn  John  a  little  lesson  if 
I  had  a  chance. 

Well,  we  went  to  the  excursion.  We  enjoyed 
the  fust  part  o'  the  ride,  lookin'  out  o'  the  winder 
and  watchin'  the  folks  round  us  ;  a  queer  lot  they 
was.  You  know  all  sorts  ginerally  goes  to  excur 
sions.  There  was  one  family  right  in  front  of 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  121 

us  that  didn't  seem  to  be  makin'  a  pint  of  enjoyin' 
themselves,  whatever  else  they  was  doin'. 

It  was  a  woman  and  three  little  girls.  I  s'pose 
the  woman  was  their  mother,  but  no  old  maid 
ever  lived  that  was  half  so  fussy  as  what  she  was. 
She  wouldn't  let  them  children  wink  hardly.  It 
was  scold  and  fret  the  whole  durin'  time.  If  one 
on  'em  leaned  forrard  or  backards  a  mite  or  nes'led 
round,  or  stood  up,  it  was,  "  Don't,  Jane  Mariar  1 
don't,  Sary  Ellen  !  or  don't,  Car'line  Elizy  !"  I 
did  pity  the  poor  little  things  ;  they  looked  as  if 
they  didn't  dars  to  breathe  nateral. 

Finally,  the  woman  gives  the  littlest  one  (she 
vva'n't  much  more'n  a  baby)  a  smart  shakin',  and 
says  she,  "  Now,  Sary  Ellen,  if  you  don't  set 
down  and  keep  still,  you  shall  take  a  big  spunful 
o  caster  He,  quick's  we  git  home  !"  Upon  that 
the  poor  little  creatur'  crep'  into  a  corner  of  the 
seat,  and  began  to  whimper  pitiful. 

"  Caster  He!"  says  I  to  Mary.  "  If  that  don't 
beat  all  for  a  punishment !" 

"  I  never  looked  upon  ix  as  much  else,"  says 
Mary,  laugh  in'. 

"  1  don't  care  ;  she's  an  onhuman  mother,  any 
way  !"  says  I,  and  I  was  jest  thinkin'  how  I'd  like 
to  make  her  swaller  a  whole  bottle  full,  when 
John  come  along  in  with  a  couple  o'  head-rests 
under  his  arm.  He'd  sold  a  number  in  the 
forrard  cars,  and  he  was  feelin'  pretty  well  over 
it. 

"  Ruth  Ann,  and  Mary,"  says  he,  "you  must 
be  gittin'  tired  ;  le'm  me  put  you  on  a  rest  ?  They 
tell  me,"  says  he,  awful  elated,  "that  this  'ere  rest 
is  wuth  its  weight  in  gold  !  I  alwers  knew  there 


122  ADVENTURE*   OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

was  money  in  it,  and  I  didn't  make  no  mistake, 
now  don't  you  forgit  it  !" 

"Oh,  yes,"  says  I  to  John,  "I  should  admire 
to  have  one  on  !  They  must  be  a  dretful  com 
fort." 

Mary,  she  stared  as  if  she  didn't  know  what 
un-.ler  the  sun  to  make  of  me,  but  she  didn't 
speak. 

He  put  mine  on  fust,  and  then  Mary's,  and 
givin'  us  some  directions  in  case  folks  wanted  to 
know  the  price  or  buy,  he  went  off  into  the 
smokin'  car. 

After  he'd  gone,  we  set  and  looked  at  one 
nother  a  spell,  and  then  we  begun  to  squirm. 
"  Mary,"  says  I,  carm  and  candid,  "  this  'ere  head 
rest  may  be  a  boon  to  a  hearty  man  with  narves 
of  steel  and  sinews  of  iron,  but  you'n'  me  hain't 
got  the  constitushion  for  it."  She  smiled  a  sickly 
smile,  and  that  was  all. 

Pretty  soon  I  begun  to  be  in  crampy  pains  all 
over,  specially  down  the  spine  o'  my  back.  I 
tried  to  move  a  grain,  but  in  doin'  so,  I  give  my 
neck  a  wrench  that  made  me  scream  right  out. 

"  Mary,"  says  I,  "  I  do  believe  I've  got  serrybro 
spinal-get  is." 

"Oh,  dear!"  she  says,  "  I  hope  not.  How  do 
you  feel  ?" 

"  I  feel  as  if  I  should  fly  all  to  pieces  !  That's 
how  I  feel  !"  says  I.  savage  as  a  meat  ax. 

"Oh,  hush!  Don't  speak  so  loud.  Folks  '11 
hear,  and  then  they  won  t  buy.  We  mustn't  spile 
the  sales!  But,  oh 'dear  me,"  she  went  on  in  a 
faint  whisper,  "  I  believe  it's  wuss'n  common 
to-day .'" 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN    OLD  MAID.  123 

She  was  pale  as  death,  and  her  eyes  looked 
tumble  pitiful.  The  sight  of  her  seemed  to  be 
the  last  straw  with  me,  and  I  got  so  excited  that 
I  was  on  the  pint  o'  doin'  some  desperate  thing, 
when  I  looked  up,  and  there  w^as  John,  sarnterin' 
along  in  smilin',  pleasant  as  a  baskit  o'chips. 
And  I  remembered  my  little  plan. 

"  Hullo  !  How  do  you  like  it  ?''  says  he,  lookin' 
at  us  and  then  round  on  the  folks  in  the  car,  as 
much  as  to  say,  "  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  what 
luxury  !" 

"  Oh,"  says  I,  bracin'  every  narve  in  my  body 
to  speak  common  and  ordinary,  "  it's  complete  ! 
I  shall  buy  some  to  take  home  with  me.  But  I 
want  to  understand  all  about  'em  fust ;  how  they 
work  and  everything.  You  jest  take  our'n  off 
now,  and  let  Mary  show  me  how  to  put  one  on 
}rou,  then  I  shall  understand." 

He  was  awful  pleased  to  find  me  so  took  with 
his  machine.  He  let  us  out,  and  settin'  down 
oppersite  to  us,  stretched  out  his  legs,  and  lay 
back  as  if  he  was  goin'  in  for  solid  comfort 
now. 

Mary  looked  dumfoundered,  but  she  showed 
me  how  to  screw  the  long  part  on  to  the  back  of 
the  seat,  and  how  to  fix  the  clamps,  one  on  each 
side  of  John's  head,  and  tighten  'em  up.  I  give 
'em  an  extra  turn  or  tew,  and  I'm  free  to  confess 
that  I  enjoyed  doin'  of  it. 

"  I  guess  you've  got  'em  screwed  up  a  lee  tie 
tight"  says  John,  smilki'  gastly.  "Oh,  no,"  says 
I  :  "they're  jest  where  ourn  was,  and  ourn  was 
^ Dutiful  and  easy." 

He  set  for  a  minnit,  and  tried  to  look  carrn 


124  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

and  comfortable,  but  finally  begun  to  move  rounii 
and  squirm  jest  as  we  did. 

"  I  guess/'  says  he,  "that  I  must  have  it  took 
off  now.  I  should  love  dearly  to  set  with  ye  and 
rest  longer,  but  I  must  go — I  must  go  and  see  a 
man" 

"  Nonsense  !"  says  I,  "  set  still  and  enjoy  your 
self  ;  we  can't  spare  you  yet.  Besides,  folks  are 
all  lookin'  at  ye  and  thinkin'  how  comfortable 
you  look.  You'll  spile  your  sales  if  you  go  jest 
now."  He  mopped  his  face  with  his  hankerchif. 
"  Wall,  then,"  says  he,  "  you'll  have  to  loosen 
these  clamps  a  grain.  They  don't  seem  to  fit  my 
head  jest  right  somehow." 

"  Fit  your  head  !"  says  I.  "Why,  I  thought  they 
fitted  everybody's  head !  We  didn't  have  no 
trouble,  did  we,  Mary?" 

I  fumbled  round  and  pertended  to  loosen  'em, 
but  I  didn't ;  I  tightened  'em,  if  anything.  He 
was  ashamed  to  say  any  more,  but  he  looked 
savage. 

I  took  out  my  knittin'  and  set  down  side  of 
him,  and  begun  to  talk  careless  and  happy  as  a 
cricket.  I  joked  and  laughed  and  made  fun,  and 
didn't  take  a  mite  o'  notice  of  his  sufferin's. 

Mary,  she  begun  to  see  what  I  was  up  tew,  but 
she  didn't  hardly  dars  to  interfere.  She  was  most 
a  cryin'  ;  she  couldn't  bear  to  have  her  great 
strong  husband  suffer  what  she  had  herself.  2 
could  though,  for  I  knew  it  would  dew  him 
good. 

Bimeby  he  couldn't  set  still  a  single  minnit,  he 
was  in  sech  pain.  I  knew  jest  how  he  felt. 
"  Why,  John,"  says  I,  "  how  res'less  you  be  ;  keep 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  1 2$ 

still  now,  and  try  to  have  a  nap.  I  won't  talk  to 
you  no  more." 

But  jest  at  that  ere  pint  of  time  I  s'pose  he  give 
out,  for  he  threw  up  both  legs  and  arms,  give  his 
neck  a  twist  that  snapped  the  old  machine  into 
a  dozen  pieces,  and  streaked  it  out  o'  that  car,  so 
quick  that  you  couldn't  hardly  see  him. 

How  folks  stared.  "  Nightmare  !"  says  I,  real 
loud.  "  He's  dretful  subjeck  to  nightmare  when 
ever  he  falls  asleep.  Pity  to  spile  the  valuable 
head-rest,  wa'n't  it,  though  ?"  Then  I  stooped 
down  to  pick  up  the  pieces  and  most  died  a 
laughin'. 

I  had  a  letter  from  Mary  the  other  day,  and  she 
says  that  John  has  gone  out  o'  the  head-rest  busi 
ness. 

Moril :  There's  nothin'  like  personal  expert-* 
ence. 

I  guess  that  head-rest  was  a  humbug  sure 
enough,  and  everybody  found  it  out,  that  had  any- 
thing  to  do  with  it,  but  of  course  there  is  inven 
tions  that  seem  to  be  real  blessin's  to  mankind. 

There's  one  that's  ginerally  considered  sech  that 
Fm  dead  set  aginst,  and  while  I'm  on  this  subjeck 
I'll  jest  give  it  a  little  hit.  I  refer  to  the  electrick 
light.  I  say  it  is  a  flantin',  darin',  blasfemous 
thing !  A  slap  in  the  face  o'  natur',  as  you  might 
say  !  Gas  was  bad  enough,  but  it  didn't  put  out 
the  moon  and  stars,  and  make  all  the  lights  in 
God's  fundament  look  sick  and  silly  ! 

I  think  it  becomes  human  natur'  to  be  kinder 
rev'rent  and  'umble,  seein'  we're  only  the  dust  of 
the  'arth,  and  I  tell  you  the  electrick  light  won't 
prosper ! 


126  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD   MAID. 

One  thing:  it  makes  everybody  look  like  dead 
folks,  and  I'm  glad  of  it  !  Nobody  won't  have 
it  in  their  houses,  seein'  it  ain't  becotnin' ! 

I  ain't  afraid  o'  the  electrick  light  though, 
wicked  as  it  is,  but  I  am  afraid  of  the  telcfone  !  I 
don't  dars  to  use  it ;  never  'tempted  tew  but  once. 
That  was  when  I  was  visitin'  to  brother  'Lonzo's. 
He  had  one  in  his  store  and  another  in  his  house, 
and  sister-in-law  Sarah  seemed  totake  solid  com 
fort  talkin'  through  it.  It  was  right  m  the  front 
entry  fastened  up  aginst  the  wall,  and  I  declare  I 
used  to  hate  to  go  past  it  for  fear  it  would  speak 
or  dew  somethin'  tew  me. 

Sarah  she  tried  to  git  me  to  use  it ;  said  I 
wouldn't  feel  so  about  it  after  I'd  used  it  a  few 
times ;  but  I  didn't  git  up  my  courage  to  try,  till 
one  day  when  she  was  out,  I  thought  I'd  go  alone 
and  speak  through  it ;  then  if  anything  happened 
nobody'd  be  there  to  laugh  at  me. 

Wall,  I  took  the  trumpit  that  hangs  tied  01  to 
it,  and  put  it  up  to  my  ear,  and  pounded  down 
the  button  twice,  jest  as  I'd  seen  Sarah  dew, 
and  buzz,  buzz,  whir,  whir,  went  the  most  on- 
arthly  noise  you  ever  heard  ;  then  snap,  snap,  and 
crackle,  and  out  of  it  all,  a  terrible  voice  from  way 
off  somewheres  said,  "  F II  call  for  yo^t,  to-night  > 
Be  ready!  " 

I  dropped  that  trumpit  and  flopped  down  into 
a  chair,  all  cf  a  heap  !  There  Sarah  found  me, 
fainted  clean  awav  !  I  told  her  about  the  noises 

*' 

and  the  words  that  was  spoke,  and  she  said  it  wa'n't 
nothin'  oncommon.  Somebody  else  was  talkin' 
on  the  same  line.  But  I  couldn't  get  red  o'  the 
notion  that  it  was  the  evil  one  himself,  and  I 


S   OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 


more'n  half  expected  he'd  be  round  after  me  that 
night,  to  cairy  me  off  bodily,  but  he  didn't  come. 
I  guess  he  thought  a  good  scare  was  all  I  des- 
arved.  They  laughed  at  me  and  argered  with 
me,  but  I'd  got  enough,  and  I  haint  never  tam 
pered  with  a  telefone  from  that  day  to  this. 

I  must  tell  ye  how  Deacon  Jones  got  fooled, 
when  I  was  to  his  house  last  summer.  You  know 
the  deacon's  awful  savin',  and  he  hadn't  took  no 
newspaper  for  years  ;  said  how  he  could  hear 
enough  o'  the  wicked  doin's  of  the  world  without 
payin'  money  to  read  about  'em. 

Wall,  he  went  over  to  Bangton  one  mornin'  to 
carry  some  butter  and  eggs,  and  buy  groceries 
and  one  thing  n'other  they  was  needin',  and  Mis' 
Jones  and  me  v  e  had  a  good  long  day  all  to  our 
selves. 

Between  sundown  and  dark,  we  was  settin'  to 
gether  knittin'  and  talkin',  when  the  deacon  come 
in.  He  laid  his  bundles  down  on  the  table  with 
out  sayin'  a  word.  He  alwers  invariable  used  to 
say,  "  There,  wife,  there's  your  groceries  ;  use  'em 
sparin',  use  'em  sparin'."  So  this  time  we  didn't 
know  what  to  make  on  him.  He  looked  oncom- 
mon  sober,  too. 

"  Father,"  says  Mis'  Jones,  "  what's  the  matter? 
Didn't  the  things  sell  well  ?" 

"  Yes,  the  things  sold  well  enough,"  says  he, 
"but  I  found  out  somethin'  down  to  Bangton 
that's  jest  about  upset  me." 

"The  bank  haint  failed— 

"  No,  no  !  For  the  land  sake,  ain't  there  no 
troubles  in  this  world  but  money  troubles  !"  says 
the  deacon  real  snappish. 


128  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD   MAID. 

"Why,  yes,  of  course,"  says  Mis'  Jones,  "but 
dew  tell  us  what  is  the  matter  !" 

Then  he  set  down  and  told  us.  "  You  know 
Widder  Grimes'  oldest  boy,  James,  has  been  to 
work  in  Barker's  grocery  store  for  more'n  a  year. 
You  remember  what  a  nice  boy  he's  alwers  been,— 
good  habits  and  all  that, — and  sence  his  father 
died  he's  the  main  stay  o'  the  family,  as  you  might 
say.  It  was  only  the  other  day  his  mother  was 
tellin'  me  'bout  him ;  how  well  he  was  gettin' 
along,  and  how  Barker  meant  to  take  him  in  pard- 
ner  this  fall.  She  seemed  so  proud  and  happy 
over  it.  She's  jest  bound  up  in  that  boy !  But 
I'll  tell  ye  how  it  was.  After  I'd  done  my  arrants 
and  packed  all  the  bundles  away  under  the  buggy 
seat,  I  went  back  into  Barker's  store  and  set  down 
on  a  box  to  eat  a  bite  o'  lunch  and  rest  me  a 
minnit,  when  James  Grimes  come  in.  I  noticed 
he  looked  kinder  queer.  He  steered  straight  for 
the  back  end  o'  the  store,  and  leanin'  up  agin  the 
wall,  begun  to  go  through  with  the  silliest  lot  o' 
performances  I  ever  see.  If  he  hadn't  been 
more'n  six  year  old,  I  should  a  thought  he  was 
makin'  believe  at  some  kind  o'  child's  play  !  He 
pertended  to  be  talkin'  to  somebody,  hollered 
"hullo!"  and  "all  right !"  and  a  whole  mess  o' 
stuff,  then  laughed  as  hearty  as  could  be,  at  his 
own  nonsense.  I  couldn't  believe  it  of  James, 
and  I  turns  to  Jeff  Adams,  standin'  by  me,  '  Drunk, 
ain't  he  ?'  says  I.  Jeff  didn't  make  no  answer, 
only  winked  one  eye  and  grinned.  It  was  a  good 
joke  to  him  I  s'pose,  but  it  wa'n't  to  me  ;  I  teli 
you  I  felt  like  death,  and  I  went  and  got  out  my 
team  and  come  away  as  quick  's  I  could.  And 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN   OLD  MAID. 

the  wust  on't  is,  it  '11  jest  about  kill  the.Widder 
Grimes  !" 

Mis'  Jones  wiped  her  eyes,  "  Poor  woman,  God 
help  her  !"  says  she. 

All  of  a  suddin  an  idee  popped  into  my  head. 
I  says  to  the  deacon  : 

"  Did  James  say  '  Hullo  !'  when  he  fust  begun 
to  talk  ?" 

"  Yes.     He  kep'  sayin'  on't  over'n  and  over." 

"  And  didn't  he  hold  somethin'  up  to  his  ear  ?" 

"  I  didn't  mind.  There  was  a  lot  o'  things  all 
cluttered  up  hangin'  on  the  wall  behind  him  ; 
corn  poppers,  and  tin-ware,  and  so  on — but  why, 
what  are  you  drivin'  at,  Ruth  Ann  ?" 

"  Wall,"  says  I,  "  I  think  James  was  jest  talkin' 
through  a  telefone — one  o'  them  talkin'  machines, 
you  know." 

"Telefone!"  says  the  deacon,  all  struck  of  a 
heap.  "  I've  heerd  on  'em.  Do  you  s'pose  they've 
got  one  in  Barker's  store  ?  I  dunno." 

"  How  should  ye  know  anything^  for  that  mat 
ter,  when  we  don't  take  no  newspaper !"  said  his 
wife,  kinder  spiteful. 

"I  swanny  !"  says  the  deacon,  "if  I  don't  be 
lieve  you're  right,  Ruth  Ann  !  James  wouldn't 
git  drunk — I  might  a  knowed  it !" 

He  went  off  post  haste  over  to  neighbor  Fuller's 
to  make  inquiries,  and  he  found  out  that  Barker 
had  got  a  telefone,  and  that  James  Grimes  was 
stiddy  as  an  eight-day  clock,  jest  as  he  alwers  had 
been. 

The  best  on't  was,  the  deacon  concluded  to 
take  a  newspaper. 


I3O  ADVENTURES  OF  AN   OLD    MAID. 


MUTUAL  LIFE  INSURANCE. 

Have  you  ever  had  anything  to  do  with  this 
'ere  life  insurance  business  ?  If  you  hain't  you'd 
orter  be  thankful  that  you  never  got  drawed  into 
it.  Like  enough  it's  a  good  thing  in  some  cases, 
but  then  agin  it  makes  a  sight  o'  mischief. 

You  remember  Uncle  Joe  and  Aunt  Betsey 
Flanders  up  to  Dobson's  Corner  ?  Everybody 
knows  'em  that  ever  lived  nigh  the  Corner. 
They've  alwers  been  considered  likely  folks,  only 
ruther  tight  and  graspin' — at  least  Uncle  Joe.  I 
guess  Aunt  Betsey  is  free-handed  enough. 

Wall,  I  jest  wanted  to  tell  ye  what  a  piece  o 
work  that  insurance  business  made  with  them. 

In  the  fust  place,  it  did  seem  as  if  a  eperdem- 
ick  of  all  sorts  o'  travellin'  consarns  had  struck 
the  town  that  summer.  There  was  patent  medi 
cine  men,  healin'  mejums,  fortin'-tellers  and 
lightnin'-rod  men,  and  last  of  all  an  insurance 
agent  come  along,  and  he  got  hold  of  Uncle  Joe 
the  fust  thing,  and  followed  him  up.  He  fairly 
harnted  the  poor  man  till  he  finally  give  in  he'd 
have  his  life  insured  if  his  wife  would  have  hern. 

Wall,  one  day  Uncle  Joe  come  home  to  din 
ner.  I  remember  we  had  biled  dish  that  day.  It 
was  his  favorite  dinner;  seemed  as  if  he  couldn't 
never  git  enough,  specially  of  cabbage.  lie 
often  used  to  say  to  his  wife  : 

"Betsey,  there  ain't  nothin' so  eood    on    the 


AN   INSURANCE  AGENT   GOT   HOLD  OF   UNCLE  JOE   AND  FOLLOWKI,  HIM 
UP,   TILL    HE    FINALLY    GIVE    IN    HE'D    HAVE    HIS    LIKE    INSURED. 

(Page  130.) 


I32  ADVEXTV'RES   OF  AN   OLD   MAID. 

face  o'  the  airth  as  pork  and  cabbage  !  "  So  they 
had  it  once  and  sometimes  twice  a  week.  But 
that  day  I  speak  on  he  might  as  well  been  eatin' 
chips  and  water  for  all  sense  he  took  on't.  He 
seemed  to  be  thinkin'  out  somethin'  awful  deep 
and  serious,  and  there  he  set  and  sometimes 
most  forgot  to  eat. 

Aunt  Betsey  she  noticed  it,  and  bimeby  she 
says,  "  For  pity's  sake,  father,  what's  the  matter 
with  ye  ?  Ain't  you  goin'  to  eat  your  cabbage  ? 
That's  only  your  fust  help,  too.  I  hope  to  massy 
you  ain't  sick  ! " 

"Sick!  no,"  says  Uncle  Joe,  startin' up  as  if 
he  was  shot.  "  Do  I  look  sick  ?" 

"  Why,  no,  I  dunno  as  you  dew,  but  you 
haint  spoke  sence  you  set  down  to  the  table,  and 
why  don't  you  eat  your  dinner  ?  "  says  she. 

"  Do  lemme  be,"  says  he.  "  Can't  I  have  no 
chance  to  think  in  my  own  house  ?  " 

"  Oh,  sartin,  sartin  ;  think  all  you  want  ter," 
says  Aunt  Betsey.  "  But  you  ain't  in  the  habit 
o'  doin'  much  heavy  brain  work  while  pork  and 
cabbage  sets  afore  ye." 

That's  all  there  was  said  till  we'd  finished  our 
dinners.  Uncle  Joe  ate  his  biled  injun  puddin' 
jest  as  he  had  the  rest  on't — without  seemin'  to 
taste  or  sense  it  at  all ;  then  he  laid  down  his 
knife  and  fork,  tilted  his  chair  back  agin  the  wall, 
and,  fixin'  a  sharp  look  onto  his  wife's  face,  be 
gun  : 

"  Wife,"  he  says,  "  I've  been  thinkin'  whuther 
no  it  wouldn't  be  a  good  plan  J$ git  our  lives  in 
sured" 

"  Good  Lordy  massy  !  "  scr<  J.-TJS  Aunt  Betsey. 


ADVENTURES   OF  AK  OLD  MAID.  133 

droppin'  the  puddin'  dish  and  breakin'  it  all  to 
smash,  "  what  put  that  idee  into  your  head  ? 
Don't  ye  do  no  sech  thing,  father  ;  you'll  be  sure 
to  up  and  die.  I  never  knew  it  to  fail !  " 

"  Do  talk  like  a  sensible  critter,"  says  Uncle 
Joe.  "  There's  a  man  here  repersentin'  a  mutual 
life  insurance  consarn  ;  it's  different  from  most  on 
'em.  We  both  insure- — you  and  me — and  then 
if  I  die  fust  you  git  the  money,  and  if  you  die 
fust  /  git  the  money  !  Don't  ye  see  ?  " 

Aunt  Betsey  she  stood  and  stared  at  him  for 
much  as  a  minute,  a  piece  o'  the  puddin'  dish  in 
her  hand  and  her  mouth  wide  open  ;  then  she 
dropped  down  into  a  chair  all  of  a  heap  and  be 
gun  to  cry  and  take  on. 

"  Oh,  Joseph  Flanders,"  says  she,  "  have  we 
lived  together  in  peace  and  harmony  now  goin' 
on  thirty  year  to  begin  all  to  once  to  trade  arid 
barter  and  gamble  in  one  'nother's  lives  ?  I 
wouldn't  'a  believed  it,  I  wouldn't." 

Uncle  Joe  he  explained  arid  scolded  and 
coaxed,  but  it  didn't  do  no  good,  and  he  finally 
went  off  to  work.  But  in  the  evenin'  he  fetched 
round  the  insurance  man- — he  was  a  dretful  ily, 
smooth-tongued  feller — and  the  upshot  on't  was 
that,  somehow  between' em,  they  finally  got  Aunt 
Betsey  to  say  she'd  go  and  be  examined  and  have 
her  life  insured,  though  she  stuck  to  it  she  didn't 
approve  on't  no  more'n  ever. 

The  next  mornin'  Uncle  Joe  started  right  off 
with  her  to  the  insurance  office,  for  fear  if  he 
waited  she'd  change  her  mind.  They  found  the 
doctor  there  all  ready  to  examine  'em,  and  a  clerk 
with  a  list  o'  questions  a  yard  long  before  him, 


134  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

set  scribblin'  away  at  a  table.  When  they  was  all 
ready,  he  picks  up  the  list,  and  says  to  Aunt 
Betsey  without  lookin'  up  : 

"  Colored  or  ivJiite  9  " 

"  What !  "  says  Aunt  Betsey. 

He  says  it  agin,  just  as  if  he  was  a  machine. 

"  Colored  or  white  ?  " 

"Young  man,  if  you  mean  am  /  colored  or 
white,  jest  look  and  see  for  yourself.  I  never 
was  took  for  a  nigger  yet ! "  says  Aunt  Betsey. 

"  Married  or  single  ?  "  he  continnered,-  scratch- 
in'  awav. 

y 

"You  sassy  boy  !"  she  screams.  "  Do  I  look 
like  an  old  maid  ?  And  ain't  my  husband  along 
with  me  ?  Ketch  me  here  if  it  wa'n't  for  him," 
she  grumbled. 

Then  he  asked  her  how  old  she  was,  and  how 
old  her  father  and  mother  and  gran'father  and 
gran'mother  was  when  they  died,  and  what  they 
died  of,  and  a  lot  more.  Then  they  went  through 
the  same  rigmarole  with  Uncle  Joe,  and  got  'em 
both  so  tuckered  out  and  mixed  up  that  when 
they  come  to  the  children  they  couldn't  make  out 
between  'em  whuther  it  was  their  darter  Sary 
Ellen  that  died  o'  the  measles  and  John  Henry 
o'  the  scarlet  fever,  or  Sary  Ellen  of  the  fever  and 
John  Henry  o'  the  measles.  After  a  good  deal 
o'  talk  the  agent  said  it  wa'n't  essenshul,  and  put 
somethin'  down  and  let  it  go. 

Then  the  doctor  he  took  'em  in  hand.  He  took 
Uncle  Joe  fust.  Fie  rapped  on  his  back, 
sounded  his  lungs,  and  measured  his  chist. 

"  You're  a  tough  old  chap,  ain't  ye  ?"  says  he. 
when  he  got  through.  Live  to  be  a  hundred  year 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD   MAID.  135 

old  if  you  don't  die  of  apperplexy.  Good  feeder, 
ain't  ye  ?"  givin'  him  a  punch  in  the  stummuck. 

Now  Uncle  Joe's  stummuck  is  prommynent, 
and  he  knows  it,  and  he  took  every  word  the 
doctor  said  in  dead  arnest. 

"Apperplexy  /"  he  gasps  ;  "  you  don't  mean  to 
say  I'm  inclined  that  way,  do  ye,  doctor?" 

It  tickled  the  doctor  to  see  how  he'd  scairt 
him,  and  he  says,  very  sollum  :  "  If  we  hadn't  all 
got  the  seeds  o'  death  in  us,  we  shouldn't  never 
die." 

Aunt  Betsey  she  knew  well  enough  what  he 
was  up  to,  and  she  pulled  Uncle  Joe's  coat-tail  : 
"  Don't  ye  see,  father,  he's  only  jokin',"  she  whis 
pered. 

But  he  was  scairt  and  nervous,  and  he  couldn't 
git  over  it  so  easy. 

Then  they  examined  Aunt  Betsey ;  they  meas 
ured  her  round  the  waist  for  one  thing. 

"  I  hain't  got  no  call  to  be  proud  o'  my  waist 
now,  I  know,"  she  says  to  the  doctor,  "  but  I've 
seen  the  day  I  wore  a  eighteen-inch  corset !" 

"  Is  that  so?  Twice  eighteen's  thirty-six,"  says 
the  doctor.  "  You  ain't  no  silph  now,  that's  a  fact." 

"  I  hope  not,"  says  Aunt  Betsey  ;  "  I  hope  I'm 
a  decent  woman,"  she  says,  dravvin'  herself  .up 
some. 

"  Oh,"  says  the  doctor,  "  I  guess  silphs  is  good 
likely  women  enough,  only  they  don't  generally 
have  much  waist  to  'em." 

"  Oh  ?  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  they  pinch  'em 
in — some  women  do,"  says  Aunt  Betsey. 

"  Like  enough,  like  enough  !"  says  the  doctor, 
winkin'  one  eye  at  the  clerk. 


l?,6  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

After  they'd  got  done  measurin'  they  sounded 
her  lungs,  and  so  on. 

"  My  inward  orgins  is  all  right,  I  guess,"  says 
she,  laughin';  "  if  they  ain't  I  never  hear  nothin' 
from  'em." 

"What!  don't  your  heart  never  go  \vhipperty 
whop,  when  you  get  berlated  to  meetin',  and  have 
to  hurry  down  stairs,  with  your  gloves  and  bun- 
nit  and  parisol  and  him-book  and  clean  handker- 
chif  in  one  hand,  and  your  husband's  clean  col- 
lor  in  t'other  ?" 

"  Yes,  it  does,"  agrees  Aunt  Betsey,  laughin' 
harty,  "  specially  when  I  find  father's  gone  off 
after  all,  without  even  changin'  his  shirt !" 

But  Uncle  Joe  didn't  smile.  "  Do  you  think 
there's  anything  the  matter  with  mother's  heart  ?" 
he  asks. 

"  As  I  told  ye  before,  so  I  tell  ye  now,"  says 
the  doctor,  sollum  as  a  judge,  "  if  the  seeds  o' 
death  wa'n't  in  us  all,  we  shouldn't  never  die." 

"La,  now,  father,"  says  Aunt  Betsey,  "don't 
you  worry.  My  heart  is  sound's  a  nut.  The 
doctor  can't  scare  me" 

The  doctor  didn't  say  nothin',  only  he  winked 
one  eye  agin  to  the  clerk,  and  the  clerk  laughed. 
I  think  that  doctor  was  real  mean.  I  always  did 
hate  these  winky  men.  Anyway,  he  got  Uncle 
Joe  so  kinder  narvous  and  worked  up,  that  he 
went  home  with  his  head  full  o'  notions  about  his 
own  health,  and  his  wife's  too. 

Not  long  after,  Aunt  Betsey  come  to  me  one 
mornin',  and  says  she,  "  Ruth  Ann,  I  can't  stan 
it !     I  hain't  had  a  decent  night's  rest  sence  we 
got  our  lives  insured.      If  I  even  turn  over  in  my 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD   MAID.  137 

sleep,  or  snore  the  leastest  mite  in  the  world, 
your  uncle  springs  up  on  end,  and  asks  me  if  I 
ain't  sick  ?  Where  I  feel  bad  ?  and  so  on.  Last 
night,  after  he'd  waked  me  up  once  or  twice,  I 
says  to  him,  "  Father,  do  for  pity's  sake  lemmc 
alone  !  If  I  ain't  sick  now,  I  shall  be  pretty  soon, 
in  good  arnest !  if  I've  got  to  be  broke  o'  my 
rest  every  night  in  this  way  !  And  you  don't 
sleep  at  all,  yourself,  do  ye  ?  What  ails  ye  ? 
What  makes  ye  so  dretful  wakeful  and  anxious  ? 
For  the  land's  sake,  don't  lay  awake  to  worry 
about  me — I'm  all  right !"  says  I. 

"  Be  you  sure,  mother?"  he  says.  "  Don't  you 
feel  no  trouble  about  your  chist  nowheres  ?  I 
thought  you  breathed  kinder  queer." 

"What  under  the  canopy  be  you  drivin'  at? 
You  make  me  narvous  !"  says  I,  out  o'  patience. 

"Oh,  nothin',  nothin',"  says  he,  "  only  you 
know  what  the  doctor  said  when  you  was  exam 
ined.  I  should  hate  to  have  ye  took  away  suddin 
and  I  not  know  it." 

I  begun  to  understand.  "  Oh,  that's  it,  is  it  ?" 
says  I.  "  Wall,  if  you  lay  awake  to  see  me  die, 
vou'll  have  a  long  job  of  it !  That  doctor  was 
foolin',  and  if  you  wa'n't  a  gump  and  a  fool  you'd 
know  it !  I  hain't  got  no  heart  disease,  more'n 
you  have,  and  I  mean  to  live  to  be  a  widder  yet ! 
says  I,  "for  I  was  kinder  mad  to  find  him  right 
on  hand,  as  you  might  say,  to  have  me  die." 

He  didn't  wake  her  up  no  more  o'  nights,  but. 
he  seemed  so  absent-minded  and  queer,  that  we 
begun  to  feel  afraid  his  brains  was  affected. 

The  wust  thing  he  did,  and  what  worried  Aunt 
Betsey  more'n  all  the  rest,  was  that  he  'bout  as 


138  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

good  as  left  off  eatin'.  It  was  curls  to  watch  him 
at  the  table — he  was  naterally  sech  a  hearty  eater, 
ye  see — but  now,  he'd  set  and  pick  over  his  vittles 
and  chew  away  an  awful  while  on  next  to  nothin', 
and  git  up  from  the  table  lookin'  hungry  and 
miserble. 

Aunt  Betsey  watched  him  'till  she  couldn'l 
stan'  it  no  longer,  and  one  day  she  says  to 
him,  "  Father,  what  are  ye  layin'  out  to  dew  ? 
Anybody'd  most  think  ye  was  tryin'  ter  starve 
yourself  to  death.  I  bet  you've  lost  ten  pound 
o'  flesh  within  a  month  !" 

"  Do  you  think  so  T  says  Uncle  Joe,  lookin'  as 
pleased  as  could  be.  "Guess  I  must  git  weighed 
and  see."  After  that  he  ate  a  little  more  free, 
but  not  like  himself,  and  Aunt  Betsey  contin- 
nered  to  fret. 

"  I  declare,"  she  says  to  me,  "  I  don't  take  a 
mite  o'  comfort  cookin'  for  your  uncle  now-days  ; 
he  don't  seem  to  relish  a  single  thing !  There's 
them  last  mince  pies  that  I  took  sech  pains 
to  make  extry  nice — he  hain't  even  tasted  on  'em  ! 
And  did  you  hear  what  he  said  to-day  'bout  cab 
bage  ?  When  I  went  to  help  him  to  some,  he 
says,  says  he,  I  guess  I  won't  take  none,  Betsey  ; 
cabbage  is  ruther  Jiearty  for  me." 

"  Ruther  hearty  /"  says  I,  "  for  the  land's  sake, 
what  does  a  strong  workingman  like  you  want,  if 
it  ain't  suthin'  hearty  !  I  thought  cabbage  was 
your  favorite,  too,"  says  I. 

"  Wall,  wall,"  says  he,  as  cross  as  a  bear,  "  can't 
a  man  change  his  mind?  Do  lemme  eat  what  I 
wan'  ter,  cant  ye?" 

"  Sartin,"  says  I,  "only  if  you've  made  up  your 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD   MAID.  139 

mind  to  live  without  eatin',  jest  say  so,  and  I 
won't  work  and  slave  cookin'  for  nothin'  here 
after,"  says  I. 

"  Oh,  wall,"  says  he,  "  I  thought  I'd  kinder 
diet  for  awhile  and  see  if  my  health  wouldn't  be 
better." 

"Die  it!"  I  says,  "guess  you  will,  if  you  keep 
on,  but  you  ain't  sick  now,  more'n  the  cat  is,  not 
a  mite  !" 

John  Hodge,  one  o'  the  neighbors,  dropped  in 
next  even  in',  and  he  got  to  talkin',  'mong  other 
things,  about  smokin'. 

"  Smokin',"  says  he,  "  is  a  injurous  habit.  My 
father  declared  in  his  last  sickness  that  he  hadn't 
no  doubt  but  what  it  had  shortened  his  life  by 
full  ten  year,  and  I  believe  he  was  right." 

This  idee  so  struck  Uncle  Joe  that  he  'most 
jumped  out  of  his  chair.  "  Strange,  I  never 
thought  o'  that  afore,"  he  muttered  kinder  to 
himself. 

"  I  should  say  he  lived  long  enough,  in  all  con 
science,"  says  Aunt  Besey.  "  Who'd  wan'  ter 
live  to  be  more'n  eighty-seven  year  old  ?" 

Wall,  if  you'll  believe  if,  from  that  night  Uncle 
Joe  begun  to  give  up  his  pipe  !  and  a  more  mis- 
er'ble,  restless  critter  I  never  wan'  ter  see. 

One  evenin'  he  held  his  old  pipe  in  his  mouth 
'till  bedtime,  and  there  he  set,  seemin'ly  wrastlin' 
with  the  longin'  to  smoke.  He  couldn't  read  his 
paper,  nor  settle  down  to  do  nothin'.  Aunt  Bet 
sey,  she'd  seen  what  was  goin'  on  all  along,  and 
hadn't  said  a  word  for,  nor  aginst ;  but  that  night 
he  was  so  oncommon  oneasy  that  she  felt  real 
bad  for  him.  She  goes  down  suller  and  draws  a 


140  ADVENTURES  Of  AN  OLD  MAID. 

great  mug  o'  cider  and  fetches  it  in,  'long  with  a 
dish  o'  nuts  and  apples.  But  Uncle  Joe  didn't 
take  no  notice  on  'em.  So  bimeby  she  lays  her 
hand  onto  his  shoulder  and  says  real  coaxin': 

"  Come,  now,  father ;  I  don't  believe  it's  a 
good  plan  for  a  man  of  your  age  to  give  up  his 
pipe — do  you  ?  I  can't  see  as  it  ever  did  you  a 
speck  o'  hurt,  and  I  wouldn't  torment  myself  no 
longer.  Come,  lemme  light  your  pipe  now,  and 
you  have  a  good  smoke,  and  git  carmed  down  and 
go  to  bed." 

He  knocked  the  pipe  out  of  her  hand,  and 
started  up  like  a  crazy  critter. 

"  Clear  out,  and  hold  your  tongue,  will  ye  !"  he 
shouted.  "  A  pretty  wife  you  be  !  If  you's  a 
decent  woman  you'd  be  helpin'  me  to  perlong  my 
life,  instid  o'  doin'  all  you  can  to  shorten  it !" 

"  Heavens  and  airth  !"  cries  Aunt  Betsey, 
"  have  you  gone  ravin'  crazy,  father !  What  do 
you  mean  !" 

'I  mean,"  says  he,  savage  as  a  meat  ax,  "that 
you've  been  all  your  life  helpin'  on  my  apper- 
plexy  ;  stuffin'  me  up  with  your  dumbed  mince 
pies,  and  the  old  Harry  'n  all !  And  that  ain't 
enough,  but  now  you  must  coax  me  to  keep  on 
smokin'  when  you  know  it's  goin'  to  shorten  my 
life  by  ten  year  or  more  !  But  I  can  see 
through  your  little  game,  and  I'll  outwit  ye.  Yes, 
I'll  outlive  ye  yet !"  He  yelled  it  out,  glarin'  at 
her  like  a  mad  man,  and  brought  his  fist  down  on 
to  the  table  with  a  blow  that  tipped  over  the 
cider-mug  and  sent  the  apples  rolljn'  all  over  the 
floor. 

It  a'  most  took  away  Aunt  Betsey's  breath  for 


ADTENTURES   OF  AN  OLD   MAID.  14! 

a  minute,  but  she  looks  him  square  in  the  eye, 
and  says  she,  "  Joseph  Flanders,  you  are  either  a 
consummit  raskil,  or  'less  your  brains  is  'fected 
bad — one  or  t'other.  But  you  haint  got  no 
apperplexy,  and  you  never  have  had — not  an  atom  ; 
and  if  you  wa'n't  a  gump  and  a  fool  you'd  know 
it !  That  miserable  insurance  business  is  to  the 
bottom  on't  all !  I  see  it  now  !  Fust  you  was 
goin'  to  have  me  die  o'  heart  disease,  and  when  I 
didn't  fall  in  with  that,  you  goes  to  work  to  per- 
long  your  own  life.  In  plain  English  you're 
stewin'  and  plannin'  for  fear  you  shan't  outlive 
me,  and  so  git  hold  o'  the  four  thousan'  dollars ! 
Oh,  Joe !"  she  sobs,  "  if  I  wa'n't  so  'tarnal  mad, 
I  b'lieve  my  heart  would  bust  !"  And  she 
sets  down  and  rocks  herself  back'ards  and  for'ards 
and  takes  on  bitter. 

When  she  spoke  about  her  heart,  Uncle  Joe 
pricked  up  his  ears,  and  looked  at  her  sharp  ;  then 
he  takes  up  the  candle  and  goes  off  to  bed,  with 
out  another  word. 

When  he'd  gone  Aunt  Betsey  wiped  up  her 
eyes,  and  set  and  set,  turnin'  on't  over  in  her 
mind.  Bimeby  she  says  to  me,  "  Ruth  Ann, 
I've  been  actin'  like  a  born  fool !  This  ere  ain't  the 
fust  time  your  uncle's  got  off  the  hooks ;  though  I 
wouldn't  own  it  to  everybody — but  I've  alwers 
fetched  him  round,  alwers ;  and  I  will  this  time, 
inside  of  twenty -four  hours,  too,  or  my  name  ain  t 
Betsey  Flanders  !  He  sets  the  world  by  me— 
your  uncle  does ;  but  between  you'n  me,  he  ain't 
very  well  ballunced,  and  the  least  thing  turns  him 
one  side.  I  tell  ye,  these  men  are  alwers  gittin' 
some  contr'y  kink  or  n'other  into  their  heads,  and 


H2  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD   MAID. 

you've  got  to  be  perpared  for  'em.  Now,"  says 
she,  laughin',  "you  jest  hold  on,  and  see  how  I'll 
fix  him  !" 

I  couldn  t  help  wonderin'  what  in  the  world  she 
meant,  but  she  didn't  say  another  word,  and  I 
didn't  feel  free  to  be  inquisitive. 

Next  mornin'  (it  was  Sunday  mornin')  Uncle 
Joe  come  to  my  door  'fore  I  was  awake,  and 
rapped.  "  Ruth  Ann,"  says  he,  "  you'll  have  to 
git  right  up,  and  see  to  your  aunt  ;  she  ain't  well 
this  mornin'." 

I  was  scairt  to  death  in  a  minute.  "  Oh, 
Uncle  Joe,"  says  I,  "is  anything  the  matter  of 
her  heart  ?" 

"  I'm  'fraid  so,  I'm  'fraid  JQ  ;  Ruthy,"  says  he, 
his  voice  shakin'.  You  dress  ye  as  quick's  you 
can  ;  I'm  goin  right  off  to  git  the  doctor." 

Wall,  there  wa'n't  much  I  could  do  for  >er. 
She  seemed  to  be  in  dretful  distress,  and  every 
little  while  she'd  lay  her  hand  onto  her  heart  and 
roll  up  her  eyes  and  groan  pitiful.  It  'peared 
as  if  she  couldn't  live  any  time  at  all,  if  she  didn't 
git  help. 

When  the  doctor  come  she  asked  to  see  him 
alone  a  few  minutes,  and  Uncle  Joe  and  I  tiptoed 
out,  and  left  'em  together. 

Wall,  you  wouldn't  'a  believed  it  possible  for  a 
man  to  change  his  tune  so  quick's  Uncle  Joe  did 
his'n  !  I'd  got  a  comfortable  breakfast  sech  as  we 
alwers  had  a  Sunday  mornin' — beans  and  brown 
bread  and  coffy,  and  I  made  him  set  down  to  the 
table  with  me  ;  but  la  !  he  acted  more  like  a 
crazy  critter  than  I  ever  see  him  before !  He'd 
jump  up  every  few  minutes,  and  go  to  the  door, 


ADVENTURES   OF  ./A'   OLD   MAID.  143 

then  come  back  and  set  down  and  groan  and 
take  on. 

"  Oh,  Ruth  Ann  ! "  says  he  to  me.  "  I 
know  I've  been  a  miserable,  wicked  scoundrel, 
and  I  don't  desarve  to  have  her  live  !  But  if  she 
dies,"  he  goes  on,  tarin'  round  the  room,  "  if  she 
dies,  I'll  murder  that  ily-tongued  insurance  chap, 
and  /'//  buy  a  kag  d  powder  and  blow  up  the 
house  and  my  own  miserable  carkis  in  it !  " 

I  tried  to  carm  him..  "Mebby  she  ain't  so  bad 
—she  may  git  over  it,"  says  I.  "  Let's  wait  and 
see  what  the  doctor  says." 

"  Oh,  no,  she  won't  never  git  over  it,"  says  he. 
"  But  she  might  a  lived  for  years  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  me  and  my  cussed  cruelty.  She  confessed 
finally  that  she  had  trouble  with  her  heart,  and 
she  suffered  agernies  all  night,  but  she  wouldn't  let 
me  go  away  from  her  for  fear  she'd  drop  away  and 
I  not  with  her.  And  she  forgiv'  me,  Ruth  Ann, 
she  forgiv'  me  over'n  over  !  Yes,  she  did,  bless 
her ;  she's  an  angel !  Ruth  Ann,"  he  groans  agin, 
comin'  and  wringin'  my  hand,  "what  shall  I  dew 
without  my  pardner  ?  What's  all  the  world  to 
me  without  Betsey  ?  Who  cares  anything  about 
me  but  Betsey?  Ruth  Ann,  if  she  does  git  well 
I'll  deed  this  ere  house  and  farm  to  her  and  every 
cent  o'  property  I've  got  in  the  world  besides, 
and  she  shall  ride  in  her  own  horse  and  kerridge 
and  have  a  hired  gal — ten  of  'em — forty,  if  she 
wants,  as  true  as  my  name  is  Joseph  Flan 
ders  !" 

After  this  he  seemed  a  little  more  easy,  and 
drank  part  of  a  cup  of  coffy  ;  then  he  goes  on 


144  ADVENTURES  OF  AN   OLD  MAID. 

"  Yes,  I'll  dress  her  with  the  best,  and  I'll  treat 
her  as  she  desarves — bless  her." 

Just  here  the  doctor  come  out,  and  I  dunno 
what  made  me,  but  I  slipt  past  him,  without 
stoppin'  to  ask  how  she  was  or  anything,  and 
went  into  the  bedroom.  There  I  found  Aunt 
Betsey  settin  up  in  bed,  stuffin'  the  bedclo'es  into 
her  mouth  and  actin'  dretful  queer.  When  she 
see  'twas  me  she  hauled  me  down  to  her. 

"Oh,  Lord  !— oh,  Lord!  I  shall  die,  Ruthy,  1 
shall  die  /  "  she  whispered,  laughin'  and  shakin' 
as  if  she'd  go  into  fits.  "  I  heerd  every  word 
your  uncle  said,"  said  she.  "  So  I'm  goin'  to 
have  forty  hired  gals  and  ride  in  my  kerridge 
and  dress  like  a  lady,  be  I  ?  Didn't  he  come 
down  harnsome  ?  What  did  I  tell  ye,  though, 
Ruth  Ann  ?  Don't  /  know  how  to  manage 
Joseph  Flanders  ?  Not  that  I  shall  ever  take 
the  leastest  mite  of  advantage — bless  him  ;  he's 
got  the  most  lovin'  heart  in  the  world  after  all  ! " 

"  But,  Aunt  Betsey,"  says  I,  "  do  you  mean  to 
say  you  hain't  been  sick  at  all  ? " 

"Oh,  yes,"  says  she,  "I've  been  dretful  sick, 
"  and  I'm  just  wore  out  with  groanin'  and  takin' 
on.  It's  hard  work,  Ruthy,  and  hungry  work, 
and  the  minnit  your  uncle  goes  to  the  barn  to 
feed  the  critters  I  want  you  to  fetch  me  in  a  big 
plate  o'  beans  and  brown  bread  and  a  cup  o' 
coffy.  The  doctor  told  me  to  take  a  little  nour 
ishment,"  says  she,  laughin'. 

Wall.  I  didn't  git  the  hull  truth  through  my 
head  for  some  time,  but  when  the  doctor  come 
in  with  Uncle  Joe  and  said  his  wife  had  had  a 
narrer  escape  (he  didn't  say  from  what),  but  with 


ADVENTURES   OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  M5 

caic  »ne  might  live  now  to  a  good  old  age,  and  I 
see  him  go  to  the  winder  to  laugh,  then  I  begun 
to  understand. 

At  fust  Uncle  Joe  was  completely  overcome. 
Then  he  set  down  on  the  side  of  the  bed  and 
held  Aunt  Betsey's  hands,  and  asked  her  over'n 
over  to  forgive  him,  and  told  her  what  he  was 
a  goin'  to  dew  to  make  her  happy.  They  both 
cried  a  little,  and  bimeby  Aunt  Betsey  says  : 

"  Father,  ain't  ye  'fraid  them  poor  critters  to  the 
barn  are  gittin'  hungry  ?  " 

"  I  declare,  I  fergot  all  about  'em  "  says  Uncle 
Joe,  and  he  went  off  to  fe>  d  'em.  Then  I  slipt 
out  into  the  kitchen  and  back  with  a  plate  o' 
beans,  and  so  on,  and  after  Aur>t  Betsey  had  eat 
'em  she  felt  as  good  as  new,  and  wanted  to  git  up 
and  dress  herself. 

"  But,"  she  says.  irl  s'pose  I  shall  have  to  lay 
abed  a  little  while  for  decency's  sake  ;  it's  an  aw 
ful  punishment,  and  I  desarve  it  for  takin'  in 
that  poor  innercent  man  so." 

To  make  a  long  story  short,  Uncle  Joe  was  as 
good  as  his  word,  so  fur  as  his  wife  was  con- 
sarned,  and  they  took  a  sight  o'  comfort  together 
after  that.  He  give  up  the  idee  o'  havin?  the  ap- 
perplexy,  and  took  to  mince  pies  and  cabbage 
agin  as  hearty  as  ever. 

They  let  that  insurance  policy  run  out — in  fact 
never  paid  the  furst  cent  on  it,  and  to  this  day 
they  both  hate  the  very  sight  of  a  life  insurant 
agent. 


146  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 


HIGH  ART  AND  ESTHETICS. 

I  visited  to  cousin  Harnden's  when  I  was  down 
country.  You  know  his  wife's  been  dead  a  num 
ber  o'  year,  and  his  oldest  daughter,  Juliet,  keeps 
house  for  him. 

I  s'pose  Joshua's  wuth  no  end  o'  money,  for 
they've  got  a  great  house  as  big  as  Square  Jones's 
barn,  with  everything  in  it,  and  plenty  o'servants 
to  wait  on  'em.  Anybody  'd  thought  they  might 
a  took  solid  comfort ;  and  so  they  would,  if  Juliet 
hadn't  a  been  so  crazy-silly — and  all  over  nothin', 
and  wuss  than  nothin' ! 

The  name  on't — whatever  it  was — that  ailded 
her  was  "High  Art  and  Esthetics"  and  she  had 
it  awful  bad.  Now,  I  can't  give  you  a  defmishun 
of  what  that  is — not  in  one  word,  but  if  you'll 
have  patience  and  hear  me  through,  you'll  know 
what  it  means,  as  well  as  /  dew,  't  any  rate. 

In  the  furst  place,  I  should  say  'twas  kind  of  an 
epidcmick  that  rages  'mong  folks  that  have  got 
plenty  o'  money,  and  nothin'  pertick'lar  to  do. 
It  don't  seem  ter  be  compattyble  with  poverty. 
Poor  folks  never  have  it,  any  way.  Them  that 
has  it,  run  of  a  notion  that  they  must  foller  the 
rules  of  "High  Art"  in  everything.  That  is, 
their  furnitoor  and  dresses,  and  all  their  ways  and 
doin's,  must  be  what  they  call  "  artistick"  And 
as  nigh's  I  can  make  out,  they  git  their  notions 
and  rules  from  travellin'  in  furrin'  parts,  and  from 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN   OLD  MAID.  \tf 

studyin'  over  musty  old  books  and  picters.  The 
oldest,  wust  lookin'  things  please  'em  the  best ; 
they  did  Juliet,  anyways.  She  run  to  everything 
dismal  and  doleful.  "rSubdood  Effecks"  she 
ealled  'em.  I  never  see  a  single  cheerful,  good- 
lookin'  effeck — not  one. 

Juliet's  own  room  was  what  she  called  a  "sim 
fony "  in  blue ;  the  color  o'  things  was  mostly 
blue,  a  dull,  dirty  blue.  And  there  wasn't  a  rock- 
in'  chair  nor  a  single  comfortable  piece  o'  furni- 
toor  in  the  hull  room.  The  only  cheerful  lookin' 
thing  was  a  dear  little  picter  of  a  bunch  of  golden 
rod,  jest  as  nateral  as  life.  It  hung  right  over 
the  mantletry  shelf.  I  \vas  surprised  and  pleased 
when  I  see  it,  and  I  said  to  Juliet,  "  Wall,  there ! 
you've  got  one  pretty  thing,  haint  ye  ?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  says  she,  "that's  o^e  o'  the  har 
monies" 

"  Nonsense  !"  says  I,  'taint  nuther — no  sech 
thing  !  I  guess  I  know  golden  rod,  it  grows  every 
wheres  to  home,  common's  dirt,"  says  I. 

My  room  tew  was  dretful  stiff  and  uncomfort 
able.  I  couldn't  feel  home-like  in  it  no  more'n  I 
could  shet  up  in  the  suller.  Finally,  one  day,  I 
went  a'  foragin'.  I  got  Johnny  and  Sue— them's 
the  two  younger  children,  ye  know — to  take  me 
up  into  the  garret  chamber,  and  there  we  found 
a  lot  o'  things  stowed  away  enough  sight  better'n 
them  we  was  usin'. 

Wall,  I  brought  down  a  rockin'-chair  and  a 
lounge,  and  a  braided  rug  _>r  tew.  I  found  an  old 
Pilgrim's  Progress,  and  (  took  that  along  foi 
company  ;  alwers  have  it  on  my  table  to  home  ; 
read  it  every  day  same's  1  do  my  bible.  Wall,  I 


148  ADVENTURES   OF  AN  OLD  MAID, 

•  put  'em  all  into  my  room,  and  it  seemed  more 
like  home  after  that.  Another  thing  I  fetched 
down  at  the  same  time,  turned  out  to  be  a  great 
success. 

You  see  I'd  found  out  Juliet  didn't  have  no 
mercy  on  her  par.  She'd  even  took  possession 
o'  the  libr'y  where  he  alvvers  set  to  read  his  paper, 
do  his  vvritin'  and  so  on,  and  she'd  furnished  it  all 
over  in  her  high-falutin'  way  ;  put  in  that  dis- 
tressid  straight-backed,  hard-bottomed  kind  o' 
furnitoor,  that's  enough  to  make  a  young  person's 
bones  ache  to  set  on,  to  say  nothin'  of  a  man  sixty 
years  old  !  She'd  took  up  every  rag  o  carpetin' 
on  the  floor,  and'  had  it  shined  and  polished  up 
till  'twas  jest  as  slippery  as  glass.  Why,  it  was 
'bout  as  much  as  your  neck  was  wuth  to  walk 
acrost  it.  Her  poor  par  had  actilly  fell  down  a 
number  o'  times,  and  it  was  a  wonder  he  hadn't 
broke  his  bones  !  I  told  Juliet  how't  he  would 
sures's  fate,  sooner  or  later.  She  only  said  "  Oh, 
he'll  get  'customed  to  it." 

It  was  a  pitiful  sight  to  see  that  old  man  of  an 
evenin',  a  settin'  up  there,  stiff's  a  poker,  in  his 
straight-backed,  high-art  chair,  all  alone  in  that 
great,  dark,  lonesome  room  I  There  was  only 
one  little  lamp,  and  that  hung  right  over  his  head. 
I  s'pose  it  was  awful  classick,  but  it  wa'n't  any 
kind  of  a  lamp,  and  never  burnt  wuth  a  cent. 
Why,  it  didn't  begin  to  give  as  much  light  as  one 
o'  your  karysene  lamps!  But  Juliet  said  how  it 
looked  dim  and  skerlastick;  and  I  should  say  it 
did,  and  wuss. 

Then,  them  high-backed  chars  and  things  cast 
great,  black  shadders  all  over  the  room,  and  ori 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  149 

the  hull  it  was  the  sollumest,  lonesomest  place  I 
ever  got  into  in  my  life !  i  used  to  go  and  set 
with  Joshua  evenin'  after  evenin',  for  company 
ye  know ;  and  sometimes  John  Aiken  would 
come  down  from  the  parlor,  where  he  was  spark- 
in'  Juliet,  and  set  with  us,  and  we'd  have  a  real 
good  time  together. 

John  Aiken  was  a  great  favorite  o'  Brothei 
Harnden's,  and  he'd  been  glad  to  seen  Juliet  mar 
ried  tew  him.  They'd  been  keepin'  company  to 
gether  a  good  while,  and  I  guess  Juliet  set  enough 
by  John,  only  sence  she  got  into  her  art  tantrums 
she  seemed  to  be  kinder  haulin'  off.  But 'la,  he 
knew  more'n  the  hull  pack  o'  them  estheticks  put 
together  !  He  was  tew  well  ballunced  to  go  inter 
fits  over  an  old  piece  o'  furnitoor,  or  the  color  of 
a  gownd  !  But  Juliet  used  to  snub  him  unmerci 
ful  sometimes,  and  1  <vondered  at  his  pa 
tience. 

But  I  was  goin'  to  tell  you  what  else  I  fetched 
down  out  o'  the  garret  that  day.  Among  the 
other  things  there  was  a  great  big  armchair,  all 
kivered  nice  with  luther,  and  stuffed  out  in  good 
shape.  As  soon  as  I  set  eyes  on  it  I  said  to  my 
self  "  that's  jest  the  chair  for  Joshua,  and  he  shall 
have  it!"  So  I  got  one  o'the  servants  to  help,  and 
we  lugged  it  down  into  the  libr'y  ;  and  that 
evenin'  Joshua  set  in  a  decent  chair  for  the  fust 
time  in  a  good  while. 

He  seemed  pleased  as  could  be,  and  laughed, 
and  said  how  it  seemed  a  little  like  the  good  old 
times,  before  the  grand  art  innervation. 

Juliet  was  mad  when  she  see  it — said  it  didn't 
11  harmonize,"  etsetery ;  but  her  par  had  his  own 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD   MAW. 

way  for  once  in  his  life,  and  the  chair  stayed,  and 
it  did  my  soul  good  to  see  him  set  in  it. 

Juliet  played  the  planner,  and  she  could  play 
beautiful,  if  she  was  a  min'  to  ;  but  she  generally 
played  what  she  called  fewges,  and  simfonies,  and 
sonnarters.  Oh,  they  was  horrid  !  There  wa'n't 
the  least  mite  o'  tune  tew  'em,  and  they  made  me 
feel  like  a  cat  when  her  fur  is  stroked  the  wrong 
way. 

Then  she  spent  mornin's  and  mornin'swith  her 
dressmakers  a  gittin'  up  her  "coschumes"  as  she 
called  'em.  I  used  to  hear  her  and  her  lady 
friends  speak  o' their  suits  as  "  harmonies  in  gray," 
:t  simfonies  in  blue"  and  so  on.  It  ivas  enough  to 
make  a  cat  sick,  that's  a  fact !  And  then  their 
manners!  Wall,  I  can't  describe 'em.  You  know 
how  subdood  and  soft  like  anybody'll  go  round 
when  there's  a  person  lyin'  dead  in  the  house  ? 
Wall,  that  was  the  way  with  them  all  the  time. 
I  never  heard  one  on  'em  laugh  or  speak  above  her 
breath,  and  when  they  walked  they  ]estglid  along 
like  shadders  or  ghosts.  They  acted  for  all  the 
world  as  if  it  was  aginst  the  law  to  make  any  noise, 
or  show  any  signs  of  life,  or  dew  anything 
nateral. 

Wall,  that's  how  it  was  with  Juliet ;  and  when 
I  see  it  all,  I  says  to  myself,  "  It's  a  bad  way  for 
her,  and  for  all  consarned,"  and  I  kep'  a  turnin'it 
over  in  my  mind,  whuther  no  I  couldn't  dew 
somethin  to  kinder  fetch  her  to  her  senses,  as  you 
might  say.  One  mornin'  I  went  out  into  the 
garden  before  breakfast.  Everything  seemed 
fresh  and  sweet  as  a  baby  jest  waked  up  from  his 
nap.  There'd  been  a  little  sprinklin'  o'  rain  in 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  Kl 

the  night,  and  the  flowers  and  grass  was  sparklin' 
ail  over  with  drops,  harnsomer  'n  any  dimonds. 

I  was  ahvers  a  master  hand  for  flowers,  you 
know,  and  I  picked  a  great,  big  bunch  on  'em  ; 
roses  and  pinks  and  all  kiads— mostly  good 
smellin'  ones,  for  naterally  I  like  them  best — and 
carried  'em  into  the  dinin'-room. 

None  o'  the  family  hadn't  come  down  yet,  and 
I  took  one  o'  them  long-necked  humly  lookin" 
vases  of  Juliets  (she  called  it  a  "  vaze"~}  and  put 
the  flowers  into  it.  They  hain't  got  a  decent 
lookin'  vase  in  the  house,  cordin'  to  my  way  o' 
thinkin'.  I'd  ruther  have  that  white  chiny  one 
o'  your'n  there,  with  the  violets  painted  on  it, 
than  any  o'  theirn.  But  some  on  'em  cost  a  mint 
o'  money  !  I  shouldn't  dars  to  say  how  much  ; 
nobody  in  this  town  wouldn't  believe  me  !  There's 
two  monster  big  ones  standin'  each  side  o'  the 
door  in  the  recepshion  room,  as  they  call  it,  and 
they  cost  I  don't  know  how  many  hundred  dol 
lars  !  They're  as  tall  as  that  barrel,  and  all  kiv- 
ered  over  with  the  horridest  picters !  I  nevei 
could  bear  the  sight  of  'em — but  Juliet  said  they 
was  priceless  anteeks"  I  told  her  "  I  didn't  care 
if  they  was,  they  was  humly  as  fury  any  way  !  " 

Wall,  as  I  was  sayin'  I  put  the  flowers  in  the 
vase,  and  set  'em  on  the  table.  Says  I  ter  my 
self,  "  that's  the  fust  good  lookin'  bokay  I've  seen 
sence  I  left  home,"  and  I  made  up  my  mind  that 
I'd  see't  we  had  one  every  mornin'.  It  made  the 
dingy  old  room  look  cheerfuller,  somehow.  Jest 
as  I  got  it  fixed  and  turned  best  side  tew,  the 
door  opened,  and  Juliet  come  loppin'  along  in. 
with  her  eyes  not  more'n  half  open,  and  her  dirt- 


152  ADVENTURES   OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

colored  gownd  a  hangin'  oi\to  her  like  a  wet  rag 
on  a  bean-pole.  (I  believe  they  call  the  color  o 
that  gownd  sage  green,  but  it  wa'n't  the  color  o 
no  sage  t'ever  I  see  !) 

When  she'd  got  'bout  half  way  into  the  room, 
she  spied  the  flowers  :  "  Oh — mercy  !"  says  she, 
leanin'  aginst  a  chair  as  if  she  was  goin'  to  faint 
away,  "  What  desercration  /" 

"  Yes,  ain't  they  nice  ?  I'm  goin'  to  pick  some 
for  the  table  every  mornin,"  says  I,  takin'  'em  up 
for  her  to  smell  on. 

But  she  put  out  her  hand  to  push  'em  away, 
and  gasped  as  if  she  was  chokin'  to  death.  "  Aunt, 
Aunt !"  she  finally  managed  to  say,  "  I  must  beg 
you  not  to  arrange  any  more  flowers  for  the 
rooms  !  Your  absence  of  all  sense  of  the  esthetic k 
is  painful  /" 

"  Oh,  that's  it,  is  it  ?"  says  I.  "  Wall,  p'raps  I 
am  lackin'  in  that  kind  o'  sense,  but  I've  got  some 
common  sense,  and  that's  what  you  need  bad  ! 
Ain't  ye  'shamed,  Juliet  Harnden,  to  be  so  put 
out  with  a  little  innercent  bunch  o'  flowers  !  I 
know  it  would  be  diffikilt  to  fix  a  bokay  humly 
enough  to  go  with  this  room — 1  declare  the  sight 
on't  is  enough  to  give  any  healthy  person  an 
emetick  !  If  you'd  foller  nater  you'd  do  better  ! 
Nater  can't  be  beat — not  as  a  gineral  thing,"  says 
I,  "  and  don't  you  forgit  it !" 

"  Oh,  you  don't  understand  !"  says  she,  givin 
me  a  witherin'  look.  "  Of  course  you  don't.;  how 
can  you  ?"  and  she  waved  her  hand  as  much  as  to 
say  "  what's  the  use  o'  talkin'  ?  Enough  said." 

But  my  dander  was  up.  Now  was  my  time  to 
give  her  that  overhaulin'  that  I'd  had  in  mind  so 


ADVRNTURRs,   OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  153 

long.  So  I  looked  her  right  straight  in  the  eye 
and  begins  : 

"Juliet  Harnden,"  says  I,  "  was  you  alwers  jest 
as  you  be  now  ?  I  didn't  know  you  when  you 
was  young"  says  I  (bearin'  on  to  the  young  a 
little  grain,  for  she  was  turnin'  twenty-five,  and  I 
could  see  she  winked).  "  Wa'n't  there  never  no 
time  when  you  looked  and  acted  nateral  ?  When 
you  put  up  your  back  hair  careless  in  the  mornin', 
ducked  your  face  all  over  in  cold  water,  put  on 
the  fust  gownd  that  come  handy,  and  slid  down 
the  bannisters  all  rosy  and  wide-awake  to  kiss 
your  par  and  mar  good  mornin'  ? 

"  Didn't  you  never  love  nobody  so's  you'd  be 
will  in'  to  jump  inter  the  fire  for  'em  ?  Didn't  you 
never  hate  nobody  so's't  you'd  like  ter  cut  'em 
up  into  inch  pieces  !  Didn't  you  never  git  mad 
and  scratch,  nor  feel  bad  and  cry  whole  buckets 
o'  tears  !  Have  ye  got  any  heart  m\&feeliris  any 
way,  sech  as  other  women  have  ? — that's  what  I 
want  to  know  !"  says  T. 

I  stopped  for  want  o'  brerth.  Her  eyes  was 
open  wider  'n  I'd  ever  seen  'em  afore  in  the  world, 
but  she  didn't  speak,  and  T  went  on,  "Juliet,"  says 
I,  "you  are  my  own  sister's  child,  and  I  want  ter 
see  ye  happy,  and  I  want  you  to  make  your  pai 
and  the  children  happy.  A  happy  home  is  wut.h 
more'n  all  the  art  in  the  world.  And  the  color 
o'  the  chair  kivers,  the  picters  on  the  walls — even 
the  bokay  on  the  table  can't  make  nor  mar  it. 

"Juliet,"  says  I,  "your  par's  gittin'  old,  and 
he  likes  his  ease  and  comfort  better'n  anteek 
lamps  and  artistick  furnitoor.  Them  children, 


154  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD   MAID. 

too,  would  have  more  fun  and  grow  faster,  in 
clo'es  that  they  could  romp  and  play  in,  if  they 
didn't  look  so  much  like  picters.  One  other  pint 
and  I'm  done.  It's  aginst  nater  for  a  smart,  high- 
sperited  young  man  like  John  Aiken,  to  stand 
bein'  put  down  and  set  on  for  any  length  o'  time, 
and  if  you  care  anything  about  him — and  you 
know  you  do — why  not  treat  him  different  ? 
Think  on't  Juliet,  think  on't !  I  want  you  to  be 
happy,"  says  I,  beginnin'  to  break  down — for  I'd 
made  a  long  speech  for  me — "  and  what's  to 
hender  ?"  says  I,  then  I  bust  out  cryin'. 

Upon  that,  Juliet  riz  up  without  a  word,  and 
went  out  o'  the  room  very  still,  and  shet  the  door 
behind  her.  I  didn't  know  hardly  what  I'd  done, 
and  I  set  and  cried  for  sometime.  I'd  freed  my 
mind,  anyway — that  was  one  consolation. 

But  it  all  turned  out  for  the  best ;  for  at  dinner 
time  Juliet  came  up  to  me  of  her  own  accord, 
and  kissed  me  quite  affectionate,  and  says  she 
"  Aunt  Ruthy,  you  was  right  about  some  things 
you  said  this  mornin'.''  Not  another  word ;  but 
that  was  a  good  deal  for  Juliet,  and  I  felt  encour- 


I  come  home  a  little  while  after,  but  I  met 
Joshua  to'  Square  Bailey's  golden  weddin',  and  he 
said  how't  Juliet  wa>  a  new  girl,  and  I  was  the 
means  ont.  He  said  she  was  gittin'  to  be  a  fust, 
rate  house-keeper,  and  they  all  took  heaps  o'  com 
fort  together.  They've  set  the  day  to  be  married, 
at  last — she  and  John  Aiken — and  they  insist  that 
I  shall  go  to  the  weddin'  whuther  or  no.  So  I've 
been  settin'  up  nights  lately,  to  git  the  second 


ADVENTURES   Of  AM   OLD   MAID.  15$ 

r  ir  o'  cream-colored  silk  stockin's  finished  off.  ?n 
r-irry  to  Juliet,  and  I  flatter  myself  that  them  e.e 
btockin's  is  good  enough  for  any  girl  to  wear 
whuther  she's  high  art  or  low  art,  or  only  jest 
common  folks. 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 


SHE  GOES  WEST  IN  THE  SLEEPING 
CAR— THE  PUNKIN  SIFTER  MAN. 

Yes,  I've  been  out  West;  I  went  all  of  a  sud 
den  too,  as  you  might  say.  You  see,  the  fares  was 
'way  down  that  fall,  beyend  all  account,  and  they 
kep'  goin'  lower'n  lower,  till  bimeby,  when  it  got 
so's't  we  could  go  to  Chicago  for  five  dollars,  I 
says  to  mother,  "  Mother,  I  do  declare  that's 
cheaper'n  dirt!  I'm  a  good  mind  ter  start  and  go 
out  to  Illinoise  and  visit  sister  Gusty  !" 

That  was  the  very  fust  word  I'd  said  about  it, 
and  it  struck  mother  all  of  a  heap;  but  after  think- 
in'  on't  over,  she  was  very  favorable. 

"  I  don't  s'pose  you'll  ever  have  a  better  chance," 
says  she. 

"  Taint  likely  I  ever  shall,"  says  I.  So  we  flew 
round  for  fear  the  fares  would  go  up  agin",  and  in 
a  few  days  I  was  all  ready  to  start. 

I'd  got  to  ride  two  nights,  and  mother  says  to 
me,  "  Ruth  Ann,  you'd  better  take  a  sleepin'  car 
and  go  comftable.  I  should  hate  to  have  ye  git 
into  Chicago  all  tuckered  out." 

"  Wall,"  says  I,  "  I  s'pose  I  might  as  well  go 
the  hull  figger  while  I'm  about  it ;  I  don't  travel 
West  every  day."  So  I  paid  another  five  dollars 
for  a  berth  as  they  called  it,  and  I  tell  you  I  didn't 
begrudge  it  nuther,  when  I  found  out  how  com 
ftable  it  was.  But  it  was  somethin'  new  to  me  ; 
I  wa'n't  never  in  one  ?.fore. 

When  I  paid  the  conductor  for  it,  he  giv'  me 


HE    LOOKED   AT   MY    CHECK   AND   PINTED   ON    AHEAD   TO   A   SKAT 

(Page  158.) 


158  ADVENTURES   OF  AN   OLD  MAID. 

the  check  and  number  o'  my  section,  as  he  called 
it,  and  I  went  along  into  the  car  ;  but  I  couldn't 
see  nothin'  o'  no  bedroom  nor  no  place  to  sleep. 
It  looked  jest  like  any  other  car,  only  nicer.  So 
I  says  to  the  black  man  that  seemed  to  be  waitin' 
round  a-purpose  to  answer  folks'es  questions, 

"  Where's  my  section, — my  bedroom,  you 
know  ?"  He  looked"  at  my  check  and  pinted  on 
ahead  to  a  seat.  "  That's  it,  marm,"  says  he.  "  We 
don't  make  up  the  beds  till  night,  unless  they're 
specially  wanted." 

"  Wall,  mine's  '  specially  wanted,' "  says  I.  "  But 
I  don't  see  no  bedstid  nor  nothin' — do  we  sleep 
on  the  floor  ?  I  ain't  a  goin'  to  pay  no  five  dol 
lars  extry  to  sleep  on  the  floor,  I  tell  you  now  !" 
says  I. 

"  Oh,  we  have  a  way  to  fix  it  butiful,  marm," 
says  he ;  and  he  pulled  out  a  kind  *)f  a  shelf  and 
showed  me  how  it  went. 

"  Wall,"  says  I,  "  s'pos'n  you  fix  it  now.  I  want 
my  room  in  order  to  once." 

"  Oh,  sartin,"  says  he,  grinnin'  from  ear  to  ear. 
"  But  do  you  wish  to  retire  so  early  in  the  day  ? 
I  hope  you  ain't  onwell,  marm !" 

"  Don't  you  worry  about  that ;  you  jest  go 
ahead  and  put  my  bedroom  in  order  as  I  tell  ye," 
says  I.  "  I  want  to  set  down  and  enjoy  myself." 

By  this  time  all  the  folks  in  the  car  was  lookin' 
at  us,  and  I  see  some  smilin'.  One  lady  steps 
for'ard  and  comes  up  close  to  me,  and  speaks  low, 
so'st  nobody  couldn't  hear  but  jest  me,  and  says 
she,  "  Madam,  you'll  excuse  me,  if  I  advise  you 
not  to  have  your  bed  made  up  now  ;  it  isn't  cus 
tomary,  ye  know,  and  it  might  seem  queer  to  the 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  1 59 

rest  of  'em.  I  wouldn't  have  anything  done  till 
night  if  I  was  you,  and  then  you'll  find  it  all 
right,  I  can  promise  you.  I've  travelled  a  good 
deal,"  says  she.  "Come  and  set  down  here  and 
look  out  o'  the  winder;  there's  lots  to  see." 

She  seemed  so  pleasant  and  friendly  that  I 
couldn't  dew  otherwise  than  thank  her  kindly  and 
take  her  advice.  So  I  told  the  waiter  he  might 
be  excused  for  the  present ;  when  I  wanted  him, 
I'd  let  him  know. 

Wall,  I  enjoyed  the  ride  that  afternoon  real 
well,  and  'long  towards  night  I  eat  my  lunch,  and 
the  black  waiter — porter,  they  called  him — got  me 
a  cup  o'  tea,  and  it  made  me  as  good  a  supper  as  I 
wanted. 

Bimeby  it  grew  dark,  and  them  that  had  chil 
dren  along  with  'em  begun  to  have  their  beds 
made  up,  so  I  had  a  good  chance  to  see  jest  how 
it  was  done,  and  when  my  turn  come  I  knew  all 
about  it. 

There  was  curtins  to  let  down  all  round  the 
bed  as  cozy  as  you  please,  though  I  found  out 
pretty  quick  that  I  was  goin'  to  smother,  and  hacl 
to  open  the  winder  a  crack.  It  seemed  awful 
queer  at  fust,  and  I  thought  to  my  soul  I  should 
roll  out  onto  the  floor  in  spite  o'  hemp  ;  but  after 
a  while  I  got  used  to  the  motion  of  the  cars  and 
dropped  off  to  sleep. 

I  knew  we  should  go  through  the  Hoosack 
Cunnil  right  in  the  middle  o'  the  night,  but  I 
meant  ter  see  it  all  the  same,  and  I  told  the  por 
ter  to  wake  me  up  jest  afore  we  got  to  it.  So 
about  'leven  o'clock  he  spoke  to  me  and  said  we 
was  jest  a  mile  from  the  entrance  o'  the  tunnil. 


1*30  ADVENTURES   OF  AN   OLD   MAID. 

I  set  up  in  bed  and  looked  out  o'  the  winder> 
and  I  declare  I  wouldn't  a'  missed  seein'  that 
sight  for  no  'mount  o'  money !  It  was  a  clear, 
moonlight  night,  and  we  was  ridin'  through  a  sort 
of  valley  with  hills  on  both  sides  on't.  And  them 
hills  seemed  to  grow  bigger'n  bigger,  and  creep 
jp  nearer' n  nearer,  till  finally  they  shet  us  in  like 
iunjin  walls.  Bimeby  there  wa'n't  no  sky  to  be  seer, 
overhead  only  a  little  line  o'  light,  and  that  grew 
smaller' n  smaller  till  it  was  all  dark  everywheres. 
Then  the  injine  give  one  onearthly  shriek,  and 
vve  plunged  and  dove  right  into  the  bowels  of  the 
mounting,  as  you  might  say  !  It  grew  deathly 
:old,  and  damp  as  the  grave,  and  I  was  glad  to 
pull  the  bedclo'es  up  round  me. 

It  seemed  as  if  we  was  a  long  time  goin' 
through,  but  I  found  out  it  was  jest  fifteen  min 
utes,  and  the  tunnil  is  five  miles  long.  I  tell  you, 
I  felt  pretty  sollum  settin'  there  alone  in  the  mid 
dle  o'  the  night,  away  from  all  my  folks,  ridin'  at 
lightnin'  speed  through  the  insidesof  a  mounting  .» 
I  had  some  curis,  awful  thoughts.  Think's  I, 
"  what's  ter  hender  this  'ere  mounting  from  falhn' 
down  onto  us,  and  buryin'  us  all  up  alive  ?"  I  was 
thankful  enough  when  we  come  out  into  the 
blessed  moonlight  once  more,  I  tell  ye  !  But  it 
was  some  time  'fore  I  could  go  to  sleep  agin, 
and  when  I  did,  it  wa'n't  for  long.  I  guess  I 
hadn't  much  more'n  got  to  sleep  'fore  I  was  waked 
up  by  the  sound  o'  wimmin's  voices,  scoldin' 
away  to  a  great  rate. 

I  peeked  through  my  curtins,  and  I  see  two 
vvimmin  and  two  children,  all  four  on  'em  loaded 
iown  with  clo'es  and  luggage,  and  they  was  in  a 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN   OLD  MAID.  1     1 

terrible  stew.  It  seemed  the  sleepin'-car  they  was 
in  had  broke  down,  and  all  the  passengers  had  to 
leave  their  beds  and  find  places  in  the  other 
cars. 

One  o'  the  wimmin,  the  one  that  talked  so  loud, 
was  a  great  fat  woman,  and  she  was  'busin'  the 
railroad  and  all  them  that  run  it.  How  she  did 
pile  it  on  to  'em  !  And  when  she  come  to  put 
the  girl  and  boy  to  bed  she  biled  over. 

"  Where's  Mary's  night-sack,  I  should  like  ter 
know?"  she  screamed  to  the  other  woman. 

"  I  dunno  more'n  you  do !"  says  the  other 
woman. 

"Jimmy's  night-shirt  is  gone  too,  and  both  the 
children's  stockin's  and  shoes  !" 

And  then  one  on  'em  lost  her  puss,  and  that 
was  wust  of  all,  and  they  tore  'round  'cordin'ly. 

The  porter  he  waited  on  'em  as  well's  he  could, 
and  promised  to  hunt  up  their  things,  and  so  on  ; 
but  itwa'n't  no  kindo'  use, — they  wouldn't  be  pas- 
sified. 

"A  Jot  o'  good  they'll  do  us,  after  these 
poor  children  1  ive  to  go  into  Chicago  nakid  !" 
says  the  fat  woman.  "And  where's  the  money  to 
buy  'em  some  more,  with  the  puss  gone — that'^: 
what  I  want  to  know  !"  says  she. 

To  make  a  long  story  short,  after  they'd  waked 
up  everybody  in  the  car  with  their  hullabaloo,  ami 
got  some  o'  the  men  to  swearin',  they  found  their 
things — puss  and  all — jest  where  they  put  'em,  I 
think  's  likely,  and  they  did  simmer  down  the 
quickest  !  We  didn't  hear  another  word  out  o' 
their  heads  that  night. 

Next  mornin'  it  was  interestin'  to  see  the  folkr 


»02  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

come  out  o'  their  berths  and  dress  themselves,  and 
so  on.  Some  couldn't  find  nothin'  they  wanted, 
and  some  o'  the  men  and  boys  got  their  shoes 
changed,  or  lost  them  altogether.  I  got  up  real 
early  and  washed  and  dressed  me,  and  had  my  bed 
put  out  o'  the  way,  and  then  set  down  with  my 
knittin'  to  watch  the  rest. 

I  could  tell  an  old  bachelder  the  minute  he 
stepped  out  o'  his  berth  ;  he  seemed  handy  about 
dressin'  himself,  you  know.  But  la,  how  awkerd 
the  married  men  that  hadn't  their  wives  along, 
was  !  They'd  tug  away  at  the  buttons  and  neck 
ties  till  they  got  sweaty  and  red  in  the  face. 

I  noticed  one  man  in  partick'lar.  He  was 
a-tryin'  to  get  his  necktie  right.  I  watched  the 
great  bunglin'  creatur'  till  I  fairly  got  narvous, 
and  I  couldn't  stand  it  no  longer.  I  threw  down 
my  knittin'  and  went  over  to  him,  and  says  I, 
"  Do  le'mme  fix  your  necktie  for  ye,  now  !"  He 
looked  as  pleased  as  could  be,  and  says  he, 
"Thank  you,  madam;  I  find  I  miss  my  darter 
'bout  these  fixin's." 

Come  to  git  up  close  to  him  he  wa'n't  so  old  a 
man  as  I  s'posed  he  was  from  his  head's  bein'  so 
bald  on  top.  He  couldn't  a'  been  much  older'n 
what  I  was,  and  I  felt  ruther  cheap.  But  I  tied 
as  harnsome  a  bow-not  as  I  could  and  made  him 
kind  of  a  kerchey  and  went  back  to  my  knittin'. 

Bimeby,  all  them  that  wanted  to  went  out  into 
the  dinin'-car  for  breakfast.  The  fat  woman  and 
the  two  children  went  along,  but  the  other  woman 
stayed  behind.  When  the  fat  woman  come  back, 
you  orter  heard  her  go  on  about  it. 

"  That  dinin'-car,"  says  she,  "  is  a  mean,  swin 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD   MAID.  l6j 

dlin'  humbug — jest  of  a  piece  with  all  the  rest  o' 
the  doin's  on  this  miser'ble  road. 

"They  have  the  face  out  there,"  says  she,  "to 
charge  seventy-five  cents  whuther  you  eat  their 
breakfast  or  not.  All  I  wanted  was  a  cup  o' 
coffy  and  a  biskit,  and  I  told  'em  so  ;  but  that 
sassy  nigger  kep'  sayin'  '  seventy-five  cents, 
madam — all  same — seventy-five  cents  for  break 
fast,  madam  !'  My  explainin'  didn't  do  no  sort 
o'  good  ;  so  when  I  found  they  was  goin'  to  charge 
me  full  price  any  way,  I  was  bound  I'd  eat  that 
bill  o'  fare  clear  through  if  it  killed  me  !  And  I 
did,"  says  she,  "  and  I  drinked  two  cups  o'  cony, 
and  I  feel  like  death — expect  nothin'  but  I  shall 
have  one  o'  my  dretful  bilyous  turns  to  p^y  foi 
it!" 

Wall,  that  man  I  tied  the  necktie  for  went  out 
to  breakfast  too.  and  what  do  you  think  he  come 
luggin'  along  back  to  me  ?  A  great  plate  o'  the 
nicest  of  everything,  and  a  nigger  follerin'  on 
behind  with  a  cup  o'  coffy  and  a  dish  o'  fruit ! 

"  I  thought  mebby  you  didn't  feel  like  goin' 
out,  marm,"  says  he,  "  and  I  hope  you'll  be  so 
kind  as  to  accept  these  vittles.  One  good  turn 
desarves  another,  you  know,"  says  he.  I  was  so 
Clustered  that  I  didn't  know  what  to  say,  but  I 
J  ried  to  thank  him  somehow.  Afterwards  I  asked 
the  woman  that  said  she  was  used  to  travellin'  if 
she  thought  'twas  proper  for  me  to  take  the 
things,  and  if  I  hadn't  orter  offer  to  pay  for  'em. 

She  laughed,  and  says  she,  "Take  all  you  can 
git.  The  old  chap  looks  as  if  he  was  akin'  to 
spend  his  money.  He's  rich  as  mud,  I  know. 
Let  him  spend  it  if  he  wants  tew." 


104  ADVENTURES   OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

"  But,"  says  I,  "his  wife — she  may  be  savin', 
I'm  'fraid  she  mightn't  like  it." 

"Mis  wife!"  says  she.  "Don't  you  fret: 
mebhy  he  hain't  got  none.  Didn't  you  see  that 
crape  on  his  hat  ?" 

"  No,  I  didn't,"  says  I. 

I  couldn't  help  feelin'  kinder  worked  up,  and  I 
detarmined  to  steer  clear  o'  that  man  the  rest  o' 
the  time  if  it  was  a  possible  thing.  So  I  set  and 
knit  away  industrious  all  day,  and  tended  to  my 
own  meals  promp',  so  he  didn't  git  no  chance  to 
do  anything  more  for  me  if  he'd  wanted  to.  But 
'long  towards  night,  I  was  lookin'  out  o'  the 
winder  (I  had  laid  by  my  knittin',  for  the  heel 
was  ready  to  set,  and  I  thought  I'd  let  it  be  till 
lamp-light) — I  was  lookin'  out  o'  the  winder,  as  I 
said,  and  kinder  dreamin'  an^  thmkin',  when  some 
body  comes  along  and  stands  still  right  beside  o' 
my  seat.  I  don't  s'pose  you'll  believe  me.  but  be 
fore  I  turned  'round  to  see  who  it  was,  I  felt  in 
my  very  bones  that  it  \vas  my  necktie  man  !  And 
it  was  ;  and  pretty  soon  he  spoke,  and  says  to  me 
very  respeckful, 

"Madam,  you  remind  me  of  a  friend  o'  mine, 
so  strong,  that  I  hope  you'll  pardin  me  if  I  in 
quire  your  name." 

I  told  him  my  name. 

"  Mrs.?"  says  he. 

"  No  ;  Miss,"  says  I,  my  cheeks  burnin'  like  a 
live  coal.  Then  he  set  down  on  the  seat  facin' 
me. 

"  Ain't  it  ruther  dull  settin'  alone  ?"  says  he. 

"Why,   no,"  says  I.      "I  hadn't  thought  on't." 

"You  hain't  the  same   name  as  the  friend  I 


ADVENTURES   OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  I&5 

spoke  on,"  he  continners,  "but  you  do  look 
enough  like  her  to  be  a  twin  sister.  Perhaps  you 
be  related.  Her  name  was  Dorsey — Polly  Dor- 
sey — and  she  was  my  wife's  second  cousin." 

"  So  he  has  got  a  wife,"  thinks  I  to  myself,  and 
I  answers  up  pretty  stiff  and  haughty, 

"  No,  sir,"  says  I,  "  I  ain't  no  relation  to  her— 
more'n  Adam  !"  Then  I  picked  up  my  knittin'- 
work  and  says  I,  "  I  wish  to  massy  this  'ere  heel 
was  set,  so's  't  I  could  have  somethin'  to  dew." 

He  looked  at  me  kinder  bewildered  as  if  he 
didn't  hardly  know  what  to  make  o'  my  remark, 
and  says  he,  "Oh  !" 

"  Yes,"  says  I,  "  I  alwers  like  to  have  my  knit- 
tin'  when  I  hain't  nothin'  to  think  on  ;  it's  com 
pany." 

He  hitched  around  in  his  seat  a  little  oneasy 
and  says  he,  "  I — I  hope  I  don't  intrude,  marm  ?" 

He  said  it  so  gentle  and  dignerfied  that  I  felt  a 
little  'shamed  o'  myself.  "  Oh,  no,"  says  I,  "  not 
at  all,  sir." 

"  You  women  have  ruther  the  advantage  of  us 
men,"  he  went  on.  "You  can  help  along  the 
lonesone  hours  in  so  many  little  ways,"  pintin'  to 
my  knittin'-work.  "  If  I  could  only  knit  now," 
says  he,  laughin'. 

I  laughed  too,  the  idee  was  so  redickerlous. 

"How  does  it  happen,"  says  I,  "that  you're 
travellin'  alone  ?  I  sh'd  thought  you'd  took  your 
wife  along,  for  company,  if  nothin'  more.  But 
mebby  travellin'  don't  agree  with  her  ?"  says  I. 

"  My  wife  is  dead,  marm''  says  he,  soft  and 
sollum.  "  She's  been  dead  now  goin'  on  three 
year," 


l65  ADVE.NTUKES  OF  AN  OLD   MAID. 

]  was  dumfoundered  !  I  picked  up  my  stockiiV 
and  begun  to  knit  away  like  all  perscsst ;  I  didn't 
care  if  the  heel  wa'n't  set ! 

Nary  one  on  us  spoke  agin  for  some  minutes. 
I  dunno  s  I  should  a'  spoke  till  this  time  if  he 
hadn't  took  out  his  handkerchif  and  blovved  his 
nose  like  the  last  trumpit.  That  kinder  started 
me  up  and  brought  me  tew,  as  it  were,  so  that 
by  clearin'  my  throat  a  number  o'  times  I  man 
aged  to  say,  "  How  dretful  bad  it  must  be  to  lose 
a  pardner  !"  and  so  on.  Then  we  both  made  a 
business  o'  lookin'  out  the  winder  for  quite  a 
while. 

Finally  he  turns  to  me  and  says  he,  "'Tain'tno 
more'n  fair,  to  tell  you  my  name  now,  seein'  's 
you've  told  yourn." 

"  Wall,  I  dunno  's  I'm  very  partick'ler,"  says  I, 
knittin'  away.  I  was  dyin'  to  know  all  about 
him,  but  I  didn't  want  to  be  bold  nor  for'ard,  so 
I  says,  "  I  dunno  's  I'm  very  partick'ler." 

"  My  name,"  says  my  necktie  man,  layin'  his 
hand  on  to  his  chist  with  as  graceful  a  gestur'  as 
I  ever  sees, — "  My  name  is  one  I  ain't  ashamed  to 
own.  I  am  Hannibal  Hazukins — Major  Hanni 
bal  Hawkins,  of  Punkinville ;  and  I  am  the  sole 
and  only  inventor,  perprietor,  and  owner  of  the 
celerbrated  Hawkins  Punkin'  Sifter  !"  So  sayin', 
he  riz  up  till  he  was  six  feet  tall  or  more,  and 
bent  over  and  made  me  a  harnsome  bow  ! 

I  declare  I  was  overcome  !  Jest  to  think,  there 
was  that  old  punkin'  sifter  of  mother's  to  home, 
that  I'd  used  this  ten  year,  and  his  very  identikle 
name  on  it  in  black  letters  !  I'd  read  it  to  my 
self  a  thousand  times — "Hannibal  Hawkins /" 


ADVENTURES  OF  AX  OLD  MAID.  1 67 

and  htre  was  the  man  standin'  before  me  !  I  felt 
as  if  we'd  been  acquainted  all  our  lives. 

"  I  wan'  ter  know,"  says  I,  as  soon  as  I  could 
make  out  to  speak, — "  I  wan'  ter  know  if  you're 
the  punkin'  sifter  man  !  Why,  we've  used  one  o' 
your  sifters  to  home  a  good  many  year.  Couldn't 
keep  house  without  it.  I'm  sure  I'm  real  glad  to 
make  your  'quaintance,  Mister  Hawkins." 

He  was  pleased  enough.  "  Why,  yes,"  says  he, 
rubbin'  his  hands,  "you  'n  me  orter  be  friends, 
sartin  !"  Then  he  set  down  agin,  this  time  beside 
o'  me.  and  'fore  long  he  knew  all  about  my  folks, 
and  I  his'n. 

Wall,  to  cut  my  siory  short,  i:he  next  day,  when 
we  got  to  Chicago,  he  said  he  was  goin'  to  be  in 
the  city  some  little  time,  and  asked  leave  to  call 
on  sister  Gusty  and  me.  So  I  told  him  where  to 
find  us,  and  we  shook  hands  and  parted. 

When  I  come  to  look  at  my  knittin',  it  'most  set 
me  into  fits !  As  true  as  I  live,  that  'ere  stockin' 
leg  was  as  long  as  a  pillar  ca«e,  and  not  a  sign  oi 
a  heel  set  to  k  ! 


1 68  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAW. 


IN  CHICAGO. 

When  I  got  to  Chicago,  I  was  pretty  tired, 
hut  I  never  felt  happier  in  my  life.  You  see  the 
punkin'  sifter  man  had  made  it  real  pleasant  for 
me  ;  and,  between  you'n  me,  there  is  somethin' 
in  knowin'  that  somebody  kinder  likes  ye,  that 
warms  the  heart  like  a  cup  o'  tea,  now  ain't  there  ? 

I  told  Gusty  all  about  him,  and  we  expected  a 
call  from  him  right  away,  but  he  didn't  come. 
Two  or  three  weeks  went  by,  and  still  he  didn't 
come,  and  finally  we  had  to  give  him  up.  I  didn't 
know  what  to  think.  Gusty  did,  and  she  says 
to  me,  "  Ruth  Ann,  you've  jest  got  dretfully 
'took  in,'  that's  all.  I  know  the  men — you  can't 
put  no  dependence  on  'em.  It's  out  o'  sight,  out 
o'  mind  with  them  !"  and  so  on  and  so  forth. 

"Gusty,"  says  I,  "is  that  the  way  with- your 
husband  ?"  (Everybody  knows  her  husband  is  a 
perfeck  slave  to  her — a  good  man  too,  if  ever 
there  was  one.) 

"  Why,  no,"  says  Gusty,  "  I  can't  say's  I've  got 
any  fault  to  find  with  George  Henry." 

"Wall,  then,"  says  I,  "don't,  for  pity's  sake, 
speak  that  way  !  If  a  woman's  got  a  decent  hus 
band,  she  orter  make  a  pint  o'  stickin'  up  for 
mankind  in  gineral  to  pay  for't.  As  for  me, 
mebby  I've  got  '  took  in,'  and  mebby  I  hain't. 
There  ain't  no  bones  broke,  and  if  there  was 
'twouldn't  mend  'em  to  'buse  the  men.  But  one 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  1 69 

thing,  Gusty, — the  less  said  about  it  to  me  the  bet 
ter."  That  was  the  end  on't ;  only  in  my  own 
mind  I  sollumly  believed  in  Hannibal  Hawkins, 
and  fully  expected  he'd  turn  up  some  day  and 
make  it  all  right. 

Did  you  ever  go  to  Chicago  ?  If  not,  you 
never  went  nowheres,  as  you  might  say. 

"  Boston  ?"  Boston's  well  enough  ;  I  love  Bos 
ton.  But  you  take  one  of  her  streets  and  double 
it  in  wedth,  and  piece  it  out  a  few  mile  in  length, 
and  you  have  a  street  in  Chicago.  Then  make 
all  the  grand  stores  grander  and  bigger.  And  set 
a  lawger-beer  saloon,  with  a  sign  o'  the  Dutchman 
holdin'  up  a  mug  o'  beer  and  lookin'  at  it,  between 
every  third  or  fourth  store,  and  you  have  a  street 
in  Chicago. 

You  might  add  to  this,  a  bad  smell,  plenty  o' 
mud,  and  crowds  of  very  good-natered,  perlite 
folks.  One  thing  I  want  to  say  right  here  about 
the  Chicago  wimmin.  They  hain't  got  no  bigger 
feet  than  Boston  wimmin !  1  took  partick'lar 
pains  to  notice. 

I  went  round  sight-seein'  a  good  deal  with  Ned, 
Gusty's  little  boy ;  he  knew  the  hull  city  like  a 
book,  and  bein'  it  was  vacation,  he  was  right  on 
hand  for  goin'.  One  day  he  took  me  into  a 
Chinese  laundry.  It  was  'way  down  suller,  where 
they  had  to  keep  the  gas  burnin'  all  the  time  to 
see.  They  didn't  mind  nothin'  'bout  our  comin' 
in  :  they  knew  Ned,  he'd  been  there  a  good  many 
times.  They  grinned  when  they  see  him,  and 
kep'  right  on  with  their  work.  One  on  'em  was 
sprinklin'  clo'es — I  s'pose  he  called  it.  He  bad  a 
hull  mess  o'  clo'es  on  a  table,  and  he  kep'  a  turn- 


I7O  ADVENTURES  OF  AN   OLD  MAID. 

in'  on  'em  ovcr'n  over,  sq'iirtin'  the  water  out  on 
to  'em  from  between  his  teeth,  somehow.  It 
looked  curis  enough,  but  awful  shif'less,  'cordin' 
to  my  way  -o'  thinkin'.  There  was  two  more 
ironin',  and  one  seemed  to  be  cookin'  somethin' 
on  the  stove.  I  was  alwers  interested  in  tl:c 
hethin' — used  to  think  I'd  like  to  go  missionary- 
in' ;  and  when  I  looked  round  on  them  poor  be- 
nited  creetur's,  I  felt  for  'em.  To  think  they 
didn't  even  know  how  to  sprinkle  r.io'eF  in  a 
decent  Christian  way  ! 

I  went  up  to  the  table  where  the  two  men  was 
ironin'  and  says  to  one  of  'em,  "  My  good  friend, 
do  you  know  who  made  you  ?" 

He  set  his  iron  down  quick's  a  flash,  and  bowed 
very  perlite  way  down  to  the  floor :  then  he 
dusted  off  a  stool  with  his  big  sleeve  and  offered 
it  to  me  to  set  on,  but  he  didn't  speak  a  single 
word.  I  says  agin,  a  little  louder  and  speakin  's 
plain  as  I  could,  "  Do  you  know  who  made  you  ?" 

The  man  shook  his  head  and  bowed  himself 
down  to  the  floor  agin.  "No  speakee  Melican," 
says  he,  and  pinted  to  the  man  sprinklin'  clo'es. 
So  I  goes  over  to  him  and  asks,  "  How  long  have 
you  been  in  this  country  ?" 

"  Oh,  velly  long  timee,"  holdin'  up  his  fingers, 
one,  two,  four. 

"  Do  you  know  who  made  you?"  He  smiled 
very  innercent-like,  nodded  his  head,  and  went  on 
squirtin'. 

"  See  here  !"  says  I,  forgittin'  all  about  who 
made  him,  "dew  let  me  show  you  how  to 
sprinkle  clo'es  like  a  civilized  bein' !"  And  I  put 
my  hand  into  the  bowl  and  showed  him  how 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN   OLD  MAID.  \7\ 

My  stars  !  you  orter  see  that  Chinyman  jump 
and  hyper  round  !  His  pigtail  flopped  'most  up  to 
the  plasterin' !  He  seemed  to  think  I  was  goin 
to  wet  him,  and  I  guess  water  is  somethin'  they 
don't  'low  ter  touch  only  in  the  way  o'  business. 

When  he  see  I  only  threw  it  over  the  clo'es,  he 
carmed  down,  and  smiled  and  nodded  his  head. 
"  Velly  good,  velly  good,"  he  said, 

Jest  then  another  big  Chinee  that  I  hadn't  seen 
afore,  and  a  little  boy,  come  in,  each  on  'em 
bringin'  a  dish  o'  somethin'  steamin'  hot  that 
they  put  on  the  table.  I  says  to  the  big  one, 
"  Be  you  a  man  or  a  woman?"  for  they  was  all 
dressed  pretty  much  alike  in  long  frocks  with 
great  floppin'  sleeves  to  'em.  They  all  laughed 
when  I  asked  that  question,  and  the  big  fat  one 
pinted  fust  to  herself  and  then  to  me,  and  says,  "  I 
samee  lady — allee  samee  lady."  I  was  glad  to 
hear  that,  and  I  shook  hands  with  her  and  felt 
more  to  home. 

We  stopped  to  see  'em  eat  dinner.  They 
wa'n't  a  mite  bashful,  and  they  grinned  at  us  and 
seemed  mitily  tickled.  I  must  say  they  was  as 
civil,  good-natered  folks  as  I  ever  come  acrost,  if 
they  was  he  thin '. 

There  didn't  seem  to  be  but  two  kinds  o'  vit- 
tles.  There  was  a  big  dish  o'  rice,  and  another 
of  cabbage,  all  tore  up  into  little  pieces,  with  a 
mess  o'  ile  poured  over  it.  They  brought  up 
their  stools  all  to  once,  and  set  down  together. 
Each  one  took  a  little  bowl  of  rice  and  hild  it 
close  under  his  chin,  and  opened  his  mouth  and 
pushed  the  rice  in  with  two  round  sticks,  and 
kep'  a  pushin'  on't  in  till  his  mouth  was  runnin 


1/2  ADVENTURES  OF  AN   OLD  MAID. 

over  full,  as  if  it  had  been  a  rat  hole  he  was  stop- 
pin'  up  !  They  never  chewed  a  mite  nor  shet 
their  jaws  together  till  they  had  put  in  a  bowlful ! 

"  But,  after  all,"  thinks  I  to  myself,  "  I've  seen 
good  Christian  church  members  to  church  suppers 
show  wuss  table  manners  than  what  these  hethin 
Chinymen  do." 

As  long  as  they  couldn't  understand  me  very 
well  I  thought  I  wouldn't  try  to  improve  'em  any 
more,  and  we  left  'em  to  finish  their  dinner  in 
their  own  way. 

After  that  we  went  into  a  bird  store,  where  they 
kep  all  kinds  o'  birds  and  a  good  many  animals, 
specially  monkeys.  There  was  one  man  there 
lookin'  at  the  monkeys,  that  thought  he  knew  all 
about  monkeys  and  the  human  race,  too.  He 
talked  all  the  time  stiddy  to  somebody,  and  final 
ly  he  fastened  on  to  me. 

"  Madam,"  says  he,  "  I'm  a  Darwinyan."  Then 
he  went  on  to  tell  how  our  forefathers  and  fore- 
mothers  way  back  was  monkeys  and  baboons,  till 
I  got  all  out  o'  patience  with  him.  I  tried  to  shet 
him  up  or  git  away  from  him,  but  he  kept  follei- 
in'  me  round  and  talk,  talkin'.  Finally,  we  stopped 
before  an  old  gray-headed  monkey,  with  a  smooth 
face,  that  did  look  jest  like  a  human  bein',  I  must 
confess. 

The  Darwin  man  pinted  to  the  monkey  and 
turned  to  me  with  a  look  of  triump'.  "  There  !'' 
says  he,  significant. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  says  I,  lookin'  fust  at  the  monkey, 
and  then  at  him,  "  I  dew  see  a  strikin  resem 
blance  !  He  does  look  enough  like  ye  to  be  your 
twin  brother,  that's  a  fact !" 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  1 73 

He  didn't  stay  long  after  that,  and  he  let  me 
nLme.  I  guess  he  was  satisfied  ;  he'd  carried  his 
pint  anyway ' 

Alter  IV  been  in  the  city  quite  a  spell  and 
knew  my  way  round  some,  I  used  to  go  out  shop- 
pin'  alone.  One  day  I'd  been  tradin'  in  a  great 
dry  goods  store — the  biggest  in  the  city — and 
was  jest  thinkin'  I'd  got  'bout  through,  when,  in 
passin'  by  the  lace  department,  my  eye  lit  on  to  a 
harnsome  lace  shawl  hangin'  up  for  show.  I'm 
dretful  fond  o'  nice  laces,  and  I  dew  enjoy  to  see 
'em,  if  I  can't  wear  'em.  Wall,  I  was  lookin'  at 
that  shawl,  kinder  idle,  not  thinkin'  of  anything 
in  particular,  when  a  man  stepped  up  to  me  and 
clapped  his  hand  on  to  my  shoulder,  and  turnin' 
to  a  clerk  standin'  by,  he  says,  "  Here's  my 
woman,  Davis." 

I  was  awful  scairt,  and  I  tried  to  twitch  away , 
but  he  hild  on  to  me.  I  knew  somethin'  was 
wrong,  and  as  quick  as  I  could  git  my  breath  so's 
to  speak  carrn  and  rashinal,  I  looked  the  man 
right  in  the  face,  and  says  I,  "  You're  mistaken, 
sir  ;  I  ain't  your  woman  nor  anybody's  else.  I 
never  was  married."  You  see  I  didn't  know  but 
his  wife,  or  somebody's  wife,  had  run  away,  and 
he  was  after  her — but  he  laughed,  and  so  did  the 
other  man. 

"  Mister,"  says  I  agin,  "  I  don't  know  you,  but 
I  see  by  your  coat  you're  a  perliceman,- -won't 
you  be  so  kind  as  to  tell  me  what  I've  been  a'  do- 
in'  of?  I'm  a  stranger  here,  and  like  enough  I've 
broke  some  o'  your  rules  without  knowin'  on't," 
says  I,  try  in'  hard  to  keep  from  cryin'. 

That  perliceman  he  jest  shet  up  one  big  eye 


A.     MAN     STEPPED    UP    TO    ME    AND    CLAPPED    HIS    HAND    ON    TO    Ml 
SHOULDER,    AND   HE   SAYS,    "HERE'S   MV   WOMAN."      (Page  173.) 

174 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  175 

and  looked  at  me  out  o'  t'other,  and  says  he,  "  Oh, 
we  all  know  how  innercent you  be,  we  do;  that's 
why  we  eall  ye  '  Simple  Susan  j  ye  know  Come 
along  Susan,  I've  seenj)/0«  before." 

"  I  never  seejy*?^  before,  and  I  hope  to  massy 
I  never  shall  agin!"  says  I,  gettin'  mad  at  bein' 
spoke  to  so.  "And,  moreover,  I  want  you  to 
understand  that  my  name  aint  "Simple  Susan" 
nor  nothin'  like  it ;  and  I  won't  go  one  step  out 
o'  this  store  with  ye,  till  you  teil  me  what  for  and 
where  tew — not  if  you  pull  me  to  pieces !" 
says  I. 

"  Where  tew  and  w hat  for  ?"  says  the  perlice- 
man.  "  For  stealiri  a  $200  lace  shawl  right  here 
yesterday  afternoon — and  you're  goin'  to  the 
lock-up.  Now  you  know  jest  as  well  as  you  did 
afore,"  and  they  both  laughed  as  if  it  was  a  good 
joke. 

"  Where's  the  man  that  owns  this  store  ?  I 
should  like  to  see  him,"  says  I. 

They  sent  for  him,  and  he  come  right  along. 
He  was  a  great  noble  lookin'  man,  and  he  had  a 
good  face ;  I  took  to  him  to  once. 

"Mister,"  says  I,  "can  these  men  take  me  off 
to  the  lobby  when  I  haint  done  nothin'  ?  Can't 
you  tell  me  what  to  dew  ?" 

He  looked  me  over  carm  and  serious.  "  I 
should  say  at  fust  sight  it  was  '  Simple  Susan,' 
sartin',"  says  he  ;  "  but  after  all,  there's  somethin' 
about  her  that  makes  me  think  she  ain't  no  thief. 
Perhaps  we're  mistakened,  Davis." 

"Oh,  I  beg  pardin,  sir,"  speaks  up  the  perlice- 
man,  touchin'  his  hat,  "  but  I  should  know  the 
woman  in  Afriky.  Her  picter's  been  in  the  Rogues 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

Gallery  for  years.  Lord,  sir,  the  more  innercent 
they  look,  the  vvuss  they  be  !  I  know  'em  !" 

"  Oh,  you  dew !"  thinks  I,  growin'  madder 
every  minnit. 

"  Mister  perliceman,"  says  I,  "  'taint  the  wust 
thing  in  the  world  to  look  innercent,  but  its  better 
to  be  so.  And  unless  your  looks  belie  ye,  your 
own  picter  orter  be  hangin'  in  that  ere  gallery 
you  spoke  on."  The  other  men  smiled  a  little, 
and  he  turned  red's  fire.  "  Wall,"  says  he,  scowl- 
in'  at  me  awful  fierce,  "  I  can't  stand  round  here 
all  day ;  I  guess  you'll  have  to  come  with  me." 

Mister  Flood  (I  found  out  afterwards  that  was 
the  store-keeper's  name),  he  looked  at  me  onde- 
cided  and  troubled.  "  There  don't  seem  to  be  no 
other  way  jest  now,"  says  he,  "  but  I'll  call  round 
and  see  you  bimeby,  and  if  you're  the  honest 
woman  I  more'n  half  believe  you  to  be,  we'll 
find  some  way  out  o'  this." 

I  was  so  dumfonnded  and  mad,  and  shamed, 
that  all  I  could  think  or  dew  was  to  wish  the  airth 
would  open  and  swaller  me  !  Me  bein'  took  off 
to  the  lobby — for  stealiri  f  The  tears  come  so 
fast  I  couldn't  see  to  walk,  and  I  went  stumblin' 
along.  I  s'pose  everybody  thought  I  was  a 
drunken  woman. 

The  fust  rashional  thought  I  had  was,  "  What 
would  my  friend  Hannibal  Hawkins  say,  if  he  see 
me  now!  I  happened  to  look  up  jest  at  that 
pint  o'  time,  and  there,  comin'  straight  towards 
us  as  fast  as  his  long  legs  could  fetch  him,  his  eyes 
stickin'  out  of  his  head  with  astonishment,  was 
the  very  person  I  had  in  mind — my  punkin-siftet 
man  / 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  1/7 

When  we  come  up  with  one  n'other,  of  course 
he  see  by  my  tears  and  so  on,  and  by  the  com 
pany  I  was  in,  that  somethin'  dretful  had  hap 
pened.  He  grabbed  my  hand,  and  says  he,  "  h 
it  thus  we  meet  at  last !  What  is  wrong  with  you 
my  friend,  what  is  wrong  ?" 

The  perlicernan  and  I,  we  explained  together  ; 
only  our  stories  didn't  exackly  tally,  and  the  per- 
liceman  ordered  him  to  "  make  himself  scarce, 
and  not  interfere  with  an  officer  o'  justice  in  the 
discharge  of  his  dooty  !" 

Mister  Hawkins  he  drawed  himself  up  to  his 
full  statur'  of  feet  and  inches,  and  says  he,  "  I  will 
accompany  this  lady  to  the  place  o'  her  desterna- 
tion  and  find  out  a  way  to  sarve  her." 

He  looked  so  grand  and  so  detarmined  that  the 
perliceman  didn't  see  fit  to  objeck,  and  we  all 
went  along  together. 

Wall,  when  we  got  to  the  lobby  buildin',  who 
should  be  standin'  on  the  steps  waitin'  for  us  but 
Mister  Flood  and  brother-in-law  George  Henry  ! 
So  I  didn't  have  to  be  locked  up  after  all ! 

You  see  when  I  went  away  with  the  perliceman 
I  left  my  bag  behind  in  the  store,  and  Mister 
Flood  in  lookin'  over  its  contints  found  George 
Henry's  business  card,  and  he  happened  to  know 
him  well.  So  he  took  the  card  and  bag  Over  to 
his  store,  post-haste,  and  they  started  out  after  us 
together. 

George  Henry  laughed  at  me  for  bein'  so 
stoopid  as  not  to  think  to  tell  who  I  was,  and 
where  a  visitin'.  It  was  stoopid,  sure  enough, 
but  I  was  so  worked  up  I  couldn't  think  o'  nothin'. 


178  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

Perhaps  he  would  a  been  jest  as  stoopid  in  my 
place. 

Wall,  then  I  interdooced  the  punkin'-siftei 
man,  and  he  explained  how  he  found  a  telegraph 
waitin'  for  him  that  mornin'  we  'rived  together  in 
Chicago,  sayin'  his  mother  was  dyin',  and  he  went 
right  back  home.  But  he  hadn't  never  fcigot 
me,  and  as  soon  as  he  could,  he  started  agin  for 
the  West ;  and  here  he  was,  carpet  bag  in  hand, 
as  grand  and  harnsome  as  ever !  I  felt  proud 
enough  I  tell  ye,  and  I  crowed  over  Gusty  well. 
It  had  all  come  out  jest  as  I  had  faith  to  believe 
it  would,  hadn't  it  ? 

When  George  Henry  come  home  that  night  he 
said,  how't  they'd  got  the  real  thief — the  real 
Simple  Susan — this  time.  "And  I  have  seen  her 
picter,"  says  he,  "and  I  do  declare  for't,  Ruth 
Ann,  you  dew  look  enough  alike  to  be  twins  !  I 
couldn't  blame  nobody  after  I  see  that  picter !" 

I  lay  awake  half  the  night  thinkin'  how  curis  it 
all  was,  and  wonderin'  if  I  couldn't  do  somethin' 
to  help  that  woman  that  looked  so  much  like  me. 
i  was  so  happy  myself  that  I  couldn't  bear  to 
think  of  misery  comin'  to  any  other  woman. 
"  She  can't  enjoy  sech  a  business,"  thinks  I  to 
myself.  "  I  know  now  how  it  feels  to  be  took 
up  for  stealin',  and  I'm  sure  she  can't  enjoy 
it." 

In  the  mornin'  I  says  to  George  Henry  : 
"  George  Henry,  I  want  you  to  take  me  over  to 
the  lobby  and  let  me  see  that  woman.  I  believe 
it  is  my  dooty  to  go  to  her." 

Fust,  he  said  how't  I  shouldn't  do  no  sech 
thing;  and  Gusty,  she  begged  on  me  not  to  go. 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD   AIAID.  l?<) 

"  It's  a  disgraceful  thing  from.beginnin'  to  end," 
says  she,  "and  to  do  that  would  be  vvust  of  all. 
I  wouldn't  go  nigh  her.  What  would  Mister 
Hawkins  say  ?" 

Knowin'  how  good  he  was,  I  knew  well  enough 
what  he  would  say.  "  He  set  me  an  example  of 
bein'  good  to  thieves,"  says  I,  half  laughin',  half 
cryin',  "and  I  mean  to  foller  it;  I'm  a  goin'," 
says  I. 

"Wall,  if  you  must  go,  dew  for  pity's  sake  put 
on  a  thick  vail,"  say^  Gusty.  So  I  did,  and  we 
went  along. 

I  think's  likely  you  never  happened  to  meet  a 
person  that  looked  so  much  like  ye  that  you  had 
to  pinch  yourself  to  find  out  which  was  which,  as 
it  were  ;  so  you  can't  imagine  how  queer  I  felt 
when  I  see  "  Simple  Susan." 

She  seemed  to  feel  queer  tew,  for  when  I  took 
off  my  vail  she  drawed  in  her  breath,  and  says  she, 
with  a  curis  smile,  "  I  heerd  'bout  you  bein'  took 
for  me  yesterday  ;  I  do  hope  you  won't  feel  lifted 
up  on  account  o'  lookin'  like  the  celerbrated  thief ^ 
'  Simple  Susan,' "  says  she,  sarkastical.  "  Strange, 
ain't  it,  that  a  woman  can  look  innercent  as  a  baby 
and  be  a  thief — and  a  smart  one,  too  !" 

"  Oh,  don't  brag  on't ;  don't  Susan  !"  says  I,  "  it 
makes  me  feel  bad." 

"  If  you  come. here  to  preach  you  can  go  'long 
quick's  you  please,"  says  she  ;  and  there  was  a 
turrible  hard  look  in  her  eyes. 

"  I  didn't  come  to  preach,  Susan  ;  fur  from  it," 
says  I,  "though  you  may  need  it  bad  enough. 
But  when  I  found  out  you  looked  so  much  like 
me,  I  felt  kinder  interested  and  sorry  for  you, 


i&O  ADVENTURES   OF  AN  OLD  MAID. 

and  jest  called  round  to  see  if  I  couldn't  dew 
somethin'  to  help  you." 

"  Respectable  folks  ain't  in  the  habit  o'  caljin1 
on  thieves,"  says  she,  lookin'  at  me  sharp  and 
suspicious.  "Ain't  you  'fraid  I'll  pick  your 
pocket  'fore  you  git  out,  now  ?  " 

I  clapped  my  hand  to  my  pocket  quick's  a 
wink  ;  then  I  was  shamed  o'  myself  and  my  face 
turned  blazin'  red. 

"  Forgive  me,  Susan,"  says  I,  "  I  did  it  'fore  I 
thought." 

She  laughed  and  shrugged  up  her  shoulders. 

"  I  never  steal  from  anybody  but  rich  folks," 
says  she. 

"  But  is  it  pleasant  business  ?  It's  so  awful  resky, 
I  don't  see  how  you  can  enjoy  it,"  says  I.  "  I 
should  want  to  know  where  I  was  goin'  to  sleep 
nights  at  least." 

She  laughed  agin.  "  It's  profterble  some 
times,"  she  says,  "  and  then,  it's  vittles  and  drink 
to  me  to  steal  from  the  rich  folks,  I  hate' em  so  !  " 
And  she  looked  so  fierce  I  said  to  myself  I  hope 
to  massy  I  never  looked  like  that.  I  hove  a  sigh, 
I  couldn't  help  it. 

"  Wall,"  says  I,  "  pretty  likely  you  know  what's 
right  and  what's  wrong's  well's  I  do.  Mebby  you 
went  to  church  and  read  your  Bible  when  you 
was  a  gal  to  home  with  your  mar  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  you  needn't  mention  them  things," 
says  she,  kinder  off  hand. 

"Susan,"  says  I,  finally,  "have  you  got  any 
family  ?"  I  see  a  change  come  over  her  face  in 
a  minnit.  tier  lips  begun  to  woik,  and  she 
looked  as  if  she  was  goin'  to  cry.  "  Because,"  I 


ADVENTURES   OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  l8l 

continnered,  "  if  you  have,  mebby  I  could  do 
somethin'  for  'em  or  take  some  message  to  'em.'' 

"  I've  only  got  a  little  boy,"  says  she.  "  Me 
goes  round  the  streets  all  day  playin'  his  violin.  I 
s'pose  he's  at  it  now,  and  he  don't  know  I'm  shet 
up,  so  he'll  go  home  to-nignt,  and  when  he  don't 
find  his  mammy,  he'll  take  on  and  grieve  and 
break  his  little  heart !  "  Then  she  began  to  rock 
herself  back'ards  and  for'ards  and  sob  and  cry  and 
take  on  bitter. 

"  He's  all  I've  got  in  the  world,"  she  said,  "  and 
I'd  give  every  drop  o'  blood  in  my  body  for  him. 
But  he'll  grieve  for  his  mammy — he'll  grieve  for 
his  rnammy  ! " 

I  went  up  to  her  with  the  tears  streamin'  down 
my  cheeks.  "  Tell  me  where  to  find  him,"  says  I, 
"and  I'll  look  after  him  a  little,  ^nd  perhaps  I  can 
bring  him  to  see  you." 

She  riz  up  then  and  grabbed  my  hand,  and 
kissed  it  and  pressed  it  to  her  heart,  but  she  never 
spoke  a  word. 

"  Mebby,"  says  I,  "  for  his  sake,  you'll  be 
willin'  to  think  'bout — 'bout  goin'  into  some  other 
biisiness.  Wouldn't  it  be  better  for  the  boy  ? 
Try  to  think  on't." 

She  told  me  where  to  find  the  child — Julian 
Fin  net  was  his  name — and  I  went  away. 

Wall,  I  thought  I  wouldn'  trouble  the  folks 
this  time,  so  I  never  said  a  word,  but  went  alone 
and  hunted  up  the  little  violin-player.  He  was 
as  pretty  a  boy  as  I  ever  set  eyes  on.  He  seemed 
to  be  a  good  boy,  too,  and  the  neighbors  all  spoke 
well  on  him.  He  was  most  distracted  'bout  his 
"mammy" — as  he  called  her — -and  it  was  a  good 


1 82  ADVENTURES   OF  AN  OL£  MAID. 

while  'fore  I  could  do  anything  with  him. 
Finally  I  got  him  to  play  for  me,  and  the  music 
seemed  to  carm  him  more  than  anything  else.  I 
ain't  no  judge  o'  music,  but  it  did  seem  to  me  as 
if  there  was  somethin'  oncommon  about  the 
child's  playin',  and  I  meant  to  find  out  if  I  was 
right. 

Now  what  do  you  think  I  did  ?  I  went  over 
to  that  big  store  and  called  on  Mister  Flood. 

"  Mister  Flood,"  says  I,  "  I  knew  you  was  a 
good  man,  the  minnit  I  set  eyes  on  ye,  and  1 
hear  that  you  do  a  great  deal  for  your  feller  bein's 
one  way  n'another.  Now  I  believe  here's  a 
chance,  and  I've  took  the  liberty  to  come  and  tell 
you  about  it.  Then  I  told  him  how  I  visited 
•'  Simple  Susan,"  and  how  I  believed  there  was 
good  in  her  that  we  could  git  at  through  her  lit 
tle  boy.  I  asked  him  to  hear  him  play,  and  do 
somethin'  for  him,  if  he  thought  best. 

Wall,  the  upshot  on't  was,  Mister  Flood  dis- 
kivered  that  the  boy  was  &  genyus,  and  he  got  him 
a  teacher  and  took  care  on  him  while  his  mother 
was  in  the  lobby.  And  he  was  sech  a  good  little 
feller,  and  so  interestin'  that  Mister  Flood  got  real 
'tached  to  him,  and  the  boy  fairly  worshipped 
him. 

They  managed  to  git  the  mother  off,  so  she 
didn't  have  to  go  to  jail,  and  when  she  found  out 
all  that  had  been  done  for  Julian,  and  who  done 
it  she  seemed  all  made  over  new.  'T  any  rate  the 
last  I  heard  from  her  she  was  livin'  an  honest 
life,  and  her  boy  was  playin'  at  concerts  for  good 
prices. 

One  thing  more  and  I  am  done.     The  mornrn' 


ADVENTURES  OF  AN  OLD  MAID.  183 

/ 

me  and  Mister  Hawkins  started  to  come  back 
East,  little  Julian  come  over  and  brought  a  box 
from  Mister  Flood,  sayin'  it  was  a  weddiri present. 
and  I  mustn't  e  pen  it  till  I  got  home.  When  I 
did  open  it,  I  found  a  harnsome  lace  shawl  and  a 
jrt  V  laces  for  my  neck  and  sleeves.  And  inside 
on  the  kiver  was  writ  the  giver's  name  and  *'God 
Bless  Aunt  Rutk." 


THE  ADVENTURES 

OF  A 

BASHFUL  IRISHMAN. 

CHAPTER  I. 

DOCTOR   KILLQUICK   AND   1. 

My  name  is  O'Blarnoy.  I  was  born  beside  a  hedge, 
under  an  umbrella,  during"  a  shower,  about  a  stone's 
throw  from  my  father's  farm-house.  The  night  pre 
vious  to  my  introduction  into  this  vale  of  tears  was 
marked  by  a  singular  occurrence.  My  mother,  a  plump 
philanthropist  of  forty,  dreamed  that  she  was  de 
livered  of  a  rope,  a  circumstance  which  the  gossips 
in  the  neighborhood,  one  and  all,  agreed  was  ominous 
of  a  rather  unpleasant  event  in  my  career. 

My  father  wras  a  middle-aged  farmer,  in  the  usual 
indifferent  circumstances.  In  his  notions  of  business 
this  gentleman  was  a  staunch  advocate  of  the  free-trade 
system,  and,  from  his  vicinity  to  the  sea-coast,  he  had 
frequent  opportunities  of  reducing  his  favorite  theory 
to  practice. 

Such  being  the  two-fold  nature  of  his  vocation — (hat 
is  to  say,  being  a  farmer  by  day  and  a  smuggler  by 
night — he  had  little  or  no  time  to  throw  away  upon  my 
education,  and  I,  accordingly,  shot  up  from  infancy  to 
boyhood  as  wild  and  undisciplined  as  a  colt. 

The  history  of  all  childhood  is  pretty  nearly   tho 

(7) 


8  bOCTOK   KILLQUIUK    AND   I. 

same;  I  shall  therefore  pass  it  by,  and  come  at  once  to 
the  period  when  I  attained  my  seventeenth  year.  At 
this  epoch  I  was  placed  in  the  shop  of  a  certain  village 
doctor,  by  the  name  of  Killquick,  a  waggish,  good- 
humored  little  fellow,  who  was  famous  throughout  the 
district  for  the  invention  of  specifics,  by  the  help  ot 
which  he  wrought  the  most  surprising  cures.  As  the 
doctor  in  his  personal  appearance  passed  the  verge  ol 
the  extraordinary  and  approached  to  the  miraculous,  1 
must  pause  to  give  a  sketch  of  him.  He  had  the  head 
of  a  giant  fixed  upon  the  shoulders  of  a  dwarf.  His  eyes 
were  of  a  gooseberry  color  ;  his  nose  was  gathered  up 
in  a  bunch  in  the  middle,  just  as  if  Dame  Nature  had, 
in  a  frolicsome  mood,  tied  it  in  a  double  knot;  his 
teeth  were  tusks  in  shape  and  size;  he  had  a  split  in 
his  upper  lip,  which  enabled  him  to  give  a  full  and 
perfect  development  to  the  broadest  grin  that  ever 
threw  a  stranger  into  hysterics;  his  mouth  was  not 
so  much  a  mouth  as  a  huge  gash  scored  at  random 
across  his  face;  and  he  had  two  big  red  ears,  which 
projected  from  each  side  of  his  head  like  the  lamp 
lights  of  a  mail-coach. 

Next  to  the  doctor,  the  greatest  curiosity  in  the  county 
was  the  doctor's  horse;  which,  having  long  been  the 
subject  of-its  master's  experiments,  had  been  physicked 
into  a  most  promising  state  of  atrophy.  The  very  lean 
est  hackney  coach-horse  that  ever  crawled  would  have 
blushed  to  have  been  seen  in  his  company.  Of  course, 
the  doctor  was  proud  of  such  an  evidence  of  his  medical 
skill,  and  it  was  as  rich  a  treat  as  eyes  could  behold, 
to  see  him  mounted  on  its  back,  swaying  to  and  fro 
like  a  scarecrow  in  a  steady  wind,  while  every  little 
ragged  urchin  for  miles  around  would  take  flight  at  his 
approach,  as  if  only  to  look  were  to  be  physicked. 

Under  this  original,  my  genius  for  pharmacy  (which 
at  a  subsequent  period,  as  tne  reader  will  find,  I  turned 
to  account,  developed  itself  with  such  precocity  that  the 
doctor  spoke  of  me  everywhere  as  the  most  promising 
pupil  he  ever  had;  and  even  went  so  far  as  to  intrust 


DOCTOR    KILLQUICB    AND  I 

me  with  the  secret  of  his  recipes  at  which,  in  process 
of  time,  I  fully  equaled,  if  not  surpassed,  him.  More 
over,  he  imbued  me  with  my  first  notions  of  th*  drama: 
for,  strange  to  tell,  he  imagined  he  had  a  gift  that  way; 
and  whenever  a  new  company  made  its  appearance,  he 
always  took  me  with  him  to  witness  their  perform 
ances.  His  favorite  character  was  Hamlet,  whick,  he 
contended  should  be  played  in  a  straight  waistcoat,  a& 
furnishing  a  lively  and  original  comment  upon  the 
peculiarities  of  the  character. 

It  is  a  pity  that  such  a  versatile  genius  should  die; 
but  doctors,  like  the  rest  of  mankind,  are  mortal — more 
especially  when  they  are  in  the  habit  of  taking  their  own 
physic — and,  accordingly,  it  came  to  pass  that  my 
excellent  master  quitted  his  patients  in  this  world  to 
rejoin  those  who  crowded  the  other,  in  consequence  of 
having,  in  a  moment  of  forgetful  ness,  drank,  a  hearty 
draught  of  one  of  his  own  elixirs. 

From  his  hands  I  was  transferred  to  Father  O'  Flan- 
naghan —  a  round,  rosy,  comfortable  ecclesiastic  of  the 
old  school,  who,  had  seen  much  of  the  world  and 
prided  himself  not  a  little  on  his  discernment  of  char 
acter.  He  prophesied  my  rise  in  life  from  having 
marked  the  attention  with  which  I  listened  to  his 
remarks,  and  the  facility  with  which  I  adapted  my 
self  to  his  habits.  The  respect  of  youth  is  the  most 
effective  compliment  that  can  be  paid  to  age.  Worldly 
natures  are  peculiarly  alive  to  this  flattery.  They 
imagine  it  the  outpouring  of  artlessness  and  sincerity, 
which,  experience  has  taught  them,  it  is  all  but  vain 
to  expect  from  those  of  their  own  age  and  standing. 

Father  O'Flannaghan  felt  my  deference  to  his 
opinions  as  a  compliment  in  its  fullest  acceptation,  and 
showed  that  he  felt  it  by  the  way  in  which  he  repaid 
me  with  exhortation.  "  Ever  bear  in  mind,  Terence,'1 
he  was  often  in  the  habit  of  saying,  "  The  great  ob 
ject  of  existence  is  the  acquisition  of  power.  Gain  this 
conscientiously  if  you  can;  but,  at  all  events,  gain  it — 
for  the  world  respects  you  solely  for  your  influence; 


10  DOCTOR   KILLQUICK   ANJ?   1 

it  has  neither  leisure  nor  inclination  to  canvass  the 
means  by  which  you  gained  it.  Remember,  also,  thai 
man  is  the  natural  prey  of  man,  and  that,  if  you  ret  rain 
from  turning  your  friend  to  a  rational  and  profitable 
account,  you  will  do  him  no  service,  but  yourself  much 
injury." 

Such,  with  few  or  no  variations,  was  the  usual  sub 
stance  of  Father  O'  Flannaghan's  admonitions,  which,  I 
may  say,  almost  moulded  my  entire  habits  of  thought 
and  action. 

I  continued  with  this  good  man  up  to  the  period  of  my 
twenty-first  birthday,  when  I  returned  to  my  father's 
roof,  wiser,  certainly  more  self-confident  and  more  am 
bitious;  but  quite  as  poor  as  when  I  quitted  it.  About 
this  period,  my  mother  was  accidentally  killed  by  her 
own  brother  in  one  of  those  pugnacious  moods  with 
which  the  best  of  Irishmen  are  at  times  afflicted.  It  is 
soothing  to  reflect  that  the  worthy  lady  died  in 
excellent  spirits,  and  that,  on  the  Sunday  following  her 
wake,  one-half  the  town  appeared  with  their  heads 
hound  up. 

Passing  over  a  host  of  unimportant  incidents,  I  ap 
proach  the  period  of  my  first  love.  My  first  love! 
What  a  world  of  ineptitude  and  insanity  is  comprised 
in  those  two  words!  The  object  of  my  attachment  was 
the  only  daughter  of  Mr.  Mahoney.  She  was  a  grace 
ful,  sprightly  young  creature,  a  piquant  mixture  of  the 
coquette  and  the  prude,  with  an  eye  blacker  than  coal; 
hair  soft  and  dusky  as  twilight;  a  mouth  small,  flexible, 
expressive,  and  in  the  angles  of  which  an  arch  smile 
perpetually  nestled;  a  bust  formed  on  the  purest  classic 
model;  and  a  figure  tall,  slim,  yet  just  sufficiently 
plump  and  rounded  to  convey  the  idea  of  perfect 
health  and  symmetry. 

i  had  beeii  in  the  habit  of  encountering  Miss 
Mahoney  in  the  course  of  my  daily  strolls  about  the 
neighborhood,  and,  though  I  cannot  assert  that  she 
made  me  the  object  of  any  very  marked  scrutiny,  yet 
a  thousand  casual  acts  of  attention  made  me  fancy 


DOCTOK   KILLQU1CK   AND   J.  11 

that  I  was  not  altogether  indifferent  to  her. 

When  once  this  nattering'  notion  had  fixed  itself  in 
my  thoughts,  it  was  astonishing  how  it  contrived  to 
feed  and  thrive  on  air.  There  is  nothing  like  idleness 
to  nourish  the  sentimentalities  and  conceits  of  youth. 
Once,  as  I  was  guiding  a  remarkably  handsome  young 
English  oih'cer  towards  Gralway,  whither  his  regiment 
had  been  lately  ordered,  Miss  Mahoney  passed  us  on 
horseback,  when  I  instantly  detected  a  blush  on  her 
countenance.  These,  with  other  trivial  circumstances, 
which  I  cannot  stop  to  explain,  brought  home  to  my 
mind  the  delightful  assurance  that  I  was  not  unbe- 
loved  by  the  finest  girl  in  all  the  land. 

We  moved,  to  be  sim>,  in  different  circles;  but  what 
of  that?  Love  is  a  Jeweler  whose  pride  it  is  to  over 
throw  all  the  obstacle?  which  circumstance  and  situa 
tion  may  oppose  to  his  progress. 

I  was  proverbially  sanguine,  and  from  the  first 
moment  of  my  encounter  with  Miss  Mahoney  I  felt 
persuaded  that  f:v';o  had  destined  us  for  each  other. 
This  idea  hauntoM  me  incessantly.  I  became  shadowy 
and  transparent  affected  the  moonlight,  and  sought 
for  sympathy  i'l  the  stars.  If  I  went  out  for  a  ramble, 
it  was  to  steal  a  glance  at  Mi.ss  Mahoney.  If  I  smiled, 
it  was  on  Miss  Mahoney.  If  I  prayed,  it  was  for  Mi-> 
Mahoney.  If  I  rhymed,  it  was  on  Miss  Mahoney.  If  I 
swore,  it,  was  by  Miss  Mahoney.  If  I  dreamed,  it  was 
of  Miss  Mahoney. 

My  father  and  I  were  seated  together  one  niirht.  be 
side  the  fire;  when,  .aroused  by  a  sigh  which  involun 
tarily  escaped  me,  he  laid  down  his  paper,  and  looking  at 
me  with  a  serio-comic  air  said  "Terence,  what  ails  you:'" 

For  the  life  of  mo  I  could  not  answer. 

"  By  the  power.-,,  the  boy's  bewitched!"  rejoined  my 
father. 

"  Right,  sir,  1  am  bewitched." 

"  Aisy,  lad,  &.\id  tell  me  all  about  it;  sure,  then,  it'* 
myself  will  soe  you  righted — at  least,  so  there's  no 
law  iu  the  '^>se." 


MY   FUtST  LOVE. 


CHAPTER  H. 

JIT   FIRST  LOVE. 

There  was  a  plausibility  about  this  that  at  once  gained 
cay  attention;  for  I  could  not  but  remember  that 
my  father  had,  himself,  in  early  life,  been  a  martyr  to 
the  tender  passion,  therefore,  I  felt  I  had  every  right 
to  look  for  sympathy;  so,  after  a  moment's  hesitation, 
when  he  had  twice  repeated  his  question,  I  burst  out 
with,  "  Father,  I'm  in  love!" 

I  thought  he  would  go  oft'  in  a  fit  at  this  confession. 

"Father, I'm  in  love,  '"  no  said,  mimicking  the  touch 
ing  sadness  of  my  voice  and  countenance.  "Ha,  Ha,  Ha! 
was  ever  such  a  thing  heard  of!  And  pray,  Terence, 
who  are  you  in  love  with?" 

When  I  mentioned  the  lady's  name,  my  father's 
laughter  broke  out  with  more  violence  than  ever. 
"  Oh,  murder!"  he  exclaimed  digging  the  tears  out  of 
h  s  eyes  with  his  knuckles,  "this  lad  '11  be  the  death  of 
me!" 

"Then,  sir,"  I  suddenly  replied,  " since  you  turn 
my  sufferings  into  ridicule,  and  give  me  not  an  atom 
of  encouragement,  I  shall  go  and  hang  myself." 

"  And  what  good  '11  that  do — hey,  Terence;"' 

The  question  was  a  striking  one,  and  reconciled  me 
at  once  to  existence.  Nevertheless,  despairing  of  re 
ceiving  any  further  serviceable  suggestions  from  a  man 
who  was  fast  hastening  to  pass  the  boundary  line  of 
sobriety,  I  resolutely  refused  to  answer  any  more  of 
his  interrogatories;  but  wrapping  myself  in  the  silence 
of  a  lofty  indignation,  quitted  the  room  and  retired  to 
bed. 

The  next  day  the  conversation  of  the  preceding 
night  was  resumed.  But,  singularly  enough,  my  fath 
er's  notions  had  undergone  a  change.  Instead  of  ridi- 


MY  FIRST  LOVE.  13 

ruling-  my  presumption  or  giving  up  my  case  as  hope 
less,  he  now  advised  me  to  persevere,  and  even  went 
the  length  of  urging  me  to  indite  what  he  called  "a 
tine  flourishing"  love-letter  to  Miss  Mahoncv,  to  which 
1  added  a  postscript,  stating  that  the  individual  to 
whom  the  note  referred  would,  himself,  wait  for  a  reply 
the  next  day  in  a  certain  lane,  whose  position  I  took 
care  to  lay  down  with  accuracy. 

Well,  the  letter,  penned,  folded,  and  addressed,  was 
consigned  to  my  father's  custody,  who  set  out  to  deliver 
it  into  the  hands,  if  possible,  of  the  lady  herself;  while 
I  spent  the  interval  of  his  absence  in  conjuring  up  a 
thousand  flattering  anticipations.  Within  an  hour 
the  old  man  returned.  He  had  delivered  my  missive, 
he  said,  with  an  arch  smile,  to  a  footman  at  the  hall- 
door,  and,  after  waiting  fully  ten  minutes  fora  reply,  was 
informed  by  the  servant,  at  the  command  of  his  mis 
tress,  that  none  was  needed. 

Silence  gives  consent.  I,  at  least,  was  not  willing 
to  suppose  otherwise,  and  so  persuaded  myself  that  I 
had  but  to  make  my  appearance,  in  decent  trim,  at  the 
place  of  rendezvous,  to  be  received  as  my  merits  de 
served. 

Decent  trim!  The  phrase  was  an  awkward  one,  and 
replete  with  discouraging  reminiscences.  I  was,  in 
truth,  most  delicately  situated  in  this  respect.  My 
coat  was  a  fragment;  and  my  hat  had  lost  its  crown. 
In  the  move  secluded  villages,  possessions  such  as  the.se 
are  acquired  by  inheritance,  or  left  by  will  as  legacies. 
No  man  dreams  of  purchasing  them  on  his  own  ac 
count;  I  was  not  an  exception  to  the  general  rule,  con 
sequently  my  ancestral  wardrobe  was  in  a  sorry  condi 
tion;  nothing  but  the  ingenuity  and  perseverance  of 
my  father,  who  assisted  me  in  the  endeavor  to  render 
it  again  fit  for  service,  enabled  me  at  length  to  work 
out  my  ideas  of  decent  trim. 

It  was  a  delightful  morning-  when  I  set  out  on  my 
sentimental  journey.  The  birds  were  singing  on  every 
hedge  they  could  find  to  sing  on;  the  wild  colts  were 


14  MY  FIKST  LOVE. 

running'  races  on  the  moor;  the  spirit  of  universal 
happiness  lay  soft  and  sunny  upon  the  earth. 

On  I  went  till  I  caught  the  first  glimpse  of  the  r.p- 
pointed  lane;  when,  halting  close  under  the  shadow 
of  an  elm,  I  began  to  frame  an  address  Avorthy  of  my 
self  and  Miss  Mahoney.  I  felt  that  I  had  but  to  speak 
to  conquer. 

Thus  absorbed,  1  came  within  sight  of  the  place  of 
rendezvous.  On  reaching  it,  I  halted  and  cast  a 
hurried  glancearound  me  to  asceitain  if  the  shape  of  a 
female  form  were  moving  before  me.  But  all  was  still 
and  breathless.  Presently,  I  heard  a  rustling — I 
listened — the  branches  parted  with  a  crash — but,  in 
stead  of  the  laughing  figure  I  expected  to  see  bound 
through  the  aperture,  an  old  cow  stared  me  full  in  the 
face! 

At  length,  the  sound  of  footsteps  came  quickly  up 
the  lane,  and  in  a  few  minutes,  three  men,  in  whose 
faces  I  was  not  slow  to  recognize  mischief,  advanced 
towards  me.  The  foremost  Avas  a  favorite  English 
groom  of  Mr.  Mahoney.  "What,"  said  I,  "can  this 
import?  Nothing  but  disappointment!  Yet  I  cannot 
have  been  mistaken  in  my  anticipations!  Those  smi  Ics 
that  look,  can  they  have — V  No,  no — it  must  not,  can 
not  be!  Courage,  then  all  will  yet  be  well!"  And, 
thus  I  boldly  resolved  to  await  the  result  of  circum 
stances. 

''Terence,"  said  the  vile  Saxon,  "is  this  your  letter:" 

"Yes,"  I  replied,  in  a  tone  of  becoming  confidence. 

"And  you  hope  to  receive  an  answer  from  my  young 
lady  in  person?" 

"Undoubtedly." 

"Truly,  a  very  modest  confession." 

"Sir,"  said  I,  "it  is  not  Avith  you  that  I  want  to 
speak;  when  I  need  your  counsel,  I  will  not  fail  to  ask 
it." 

The  Avretch  turned  to  his  fellows  Avith  a  sneer.  I 
caught  the  expression,  and  prepared  for  instant  flight. 
But  the  man  had  evidently  anticipated  some  such 


j»lY  FIRST  LOVE.  15 

maneuver;  and  before  I  hud  time  to  enter  into  satisfac 
tory  explanations,  made  a  sign  to  his  companions,  who, 
with  an  alacrity  which  I  shall  never  think  of  without 
disgust,  seized  me  by  the  Legs  and  arms,  and  trotted 
otF  with  me  towards  a  neighboring  field,  where  a  mob 
was  anxiously  expecting  my  arrival. 

On  seeing  me  approach,  the  whole  assembly  burst 
into  uproarious  laughter,  and  in  an  incredibly  short 
space  of  time  adjusted  a  blanket,  threw  me  right  into 
the  middle  of  it  and  sent  me,  head  over  heels,  high  up 
into  the  astonished  sky. 

I  forbear  to  enumerate  the  reluctant  somersets  I 
threw:  I  shrink  from  details  of  the  height  to  which  I 
rose,  or  the  depth  to  which  I  fell:  suffice  it  to  say  that 
at  one  moment  I  was  as  near  to  heaven  as  a  doctor's 
patient,  and  the  next  as  far  removed  from  it  as  a  lawyer. 

For  at  least  half  an  hour,  I  kept  rising  and  sinking 
in  this  very  indecorous  fashion — now,  impersonating 
the  sublime,  and  now,  the  pathos — at  the  expiration  of 
which  time  I  was  set  once  more  on  my  legs,  and  com 
plimented  on  my  termination  to  "Love's  young  dream!" 

Overcome  with  shame  and  offended*  delicacy,  I  was 
preparing  to  sneak  from. the  field,  when  whom  should 
I  encounter  but — my  father!  The  old  man  said  noth 
ing;  but  when  he  winked  his  eye,  and  laid  his  fore 
finger  beside  his  nose,  at  the  same  time  casting  a  sly 
glance  at  the  blanket,  I  thought  I  should  have  gone 
distracted.  To  be  thus  outraged  by  a  mob  and  jeered 
by  a  parent — to  have  one's  sensibilities  thus  blighted, 
as  it  were,  in  the  bud — flesh  and  blood  could  not  endure 
the  shock,  so,  like  a  maniac,  I  rushed  from  the  scene 
nor  halted  till  many  long  miles  lay  between  me  and 
the  scene  of  my  humiliation. 

After  three  hours  walking,  during  which  my  fancy 
had  shaped  out  a  thousand  plans  for  the  future — for, 
resolved  never  to  return  home,  I  already  looked  on 
myself  as  a  citizen  of  the  world — I  was  compelled 
from  exhaustion  to  come  to  a  halt;  so  seating  myself  a 
tew  yards  iroiii  the  road,  1  reviewed,  as  dispassionately 


Iti  HUMAN  NATUKE. 

as  the  state  of  my  ribs  would  allow,  the  events  of  the 
last  few  hours. 

"Had  I  possessed  but  ordinary  assurance,"  I  said,  "I 
should  not  have  been  thus  situated.  What  had  I  to  do 
with  sneaking  about  waiting  for  stolen  interviews  with 
young  ladies?  I  should  have  known  better  what  was 
due  to  the  dignity  of  manhood— have  gone  boldly  up 
to  the  house — pleaded  my  cause  in  person — and  trusted 
to  my  stars  for  the  result.  Instead  of  which,  I  have 
proved  myself  a  spooney!  Is  it  wonderful  that  I  am 
treated  with  contempt:'  Is  not  a  blanketing  the  legit 
imate  inheritance  of  such  a  ninny?  Oh,  fool!  fool!  this 
confounded  modesty  will  be  my  ruin!" 

Turning  from  this  reverie,  I  proceeded  to  discuss  the 
plan  of  my  future — the  advice  of  Father  O'Flan- 
naghan  recurred  tome  with  healing  effect.  "Yes,"  I 
exclaimed.  "I  will  neither  despond  nor  become  desper 
ate,  Fortune  is  rarely  coy  to  those  who  know  how  to 
contend  for  her  favors.  If  one  thing  fails,  I  will  try 
another.  I  have  talents,  I  have  something  of  educa 
tion;  and  Nature,  if  she  has  cursed  me  with  shame- 
facedness,  has,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  blessed  me  with  suffi 
cient  energy  to  neutralize  it. 

By  this  time,  the  day  was  wearing  on,  and  as  my  afflic 
tions,  though  severe,  had  not  deprived  me  of  appetite, 
I  made  all  possible  haste  towards  the  nearest  town. 
My  speed  \vas  uuincumbered  with  bag  and  baggage, 
tor  my  whole  wardrobe  was  on  my  back,  and  my  whok 
stock  of  cash  consisted  of  very  little. 


CHAPTER  III. 


HUMAN    NATURE. 


By  twilight,  I  reached  a  village,  and  entering  a 
small  inn,  called  for  the  landlord  and  ordered  supper 
in  that  tone  of  authority  which  implies  the  possession 
of  the  ways  and  means. 


HUMAN    NATURE.  17 

The  man  hastened  to  obey  my  summons,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  returned  with  some  cheese,  (by  no  means 
improved  by  age)  hot  potatoes,  a  loaf  of  home-made 
bread,  and,  what  I  feel  justified  in  asserting  was, 
very  passable  coffee. 

The  sharp  edge  of  appetite  was  soon  blunted  on 
these  viands,  to  which  a  bowl  of  coffee  lent  the  finest 
possible  relish  and  rendered  me  insensible  to  all  anx 
ieties. 

In  the  course  of  the  evening  the  room  gradually 
filled;  and  just  when  my  spirits  had  attained  an  envia 
ble  point  of  elevation,  and  I  was  ripe  for  any  frolic,  a 
random  remark,  let  fall  by  an  individual  who  was 
drinking  with  some  others  at  a  table  at  the  far  end  of 
the  room,  gave  rise  to  a  tart  rejoinder  from,  one  of  his 
companions,  to  which  he  as  tartly  replied. 

A  crowd  was  soon  gathered  about  the  disputants; 
the  strife  of  tongues  began  to  wax  loud  and  louder,  till 
at  length,  a  blow,  aimed  at  the  author  of  the  fray 
brought  on  what  was  indeed  a  lovely  "scrimmage." 
No  one  dreamed  of  siding  either  with  this  party  or 
with  that;  impartiality  being  the  order  of  the  clay,  all 
you  were  expected  to  do  was  to  pitch  into  your  next 
neighbor  and  get  as  much  fun  out  of  him  as  possible. 

Was  I  idle  all  this  time?  No!  It  was  not  in  human 
— certainly  not  in  Irish— nature  to  resist  the  tempta 
tion.  In  a  wonderfully  short  space  of  time,  therefore,  I 
found  myself  in  the  very  thick  of  the  battle,  anchored 
alongside  the  individual  whose  Avild  rattle  had  origi 
nated  it.  Scarcely  had  I  taken  up  this  position,  when 
such  a  terrific  blow  was  aimed  at  my  neighbor's  head 
as  must  infallibly  have  demolished  him,  if  I  had  not 
intercepted  it  by  dexterously  interposing  the  leg  of  a 
broken  stool  with  which  I  had  armed  myself. 

On  seeing  this,  he  turned  round  and  giving  me  alook, 
as  much  as  to  say,  "I  am  too  busy  now,  but  will  thank 
you  when  it  is  all  over,"  set  to  work  again,  in  conceit 
with  myself,  with  such  well-directed  energy,  while  the 
others  were  all  hammering  away  at  random,  that  when 


18  .  HUAIAN  NATURE. 

the  landlord  rushed  in  to  separate  the  combatants,  we 
\verc  the  onlyjtwo  who  were  not  lavishly  embellished 
with  black  eyes,  and  other  such  pugilistic  illustrations. 

After  a  cleverly-sustained  affair  of  about  half  an 
hour,  peace  was  restored.  Some  quitted  the  coffee-room 
for  the  purpose  of  anointing  their  wounds;  others 
resumed  their  places  in  high  glee  at  the  entertainment 
they  had  just  received;  while  the  stranger  whom  IhaiJ 
so  opportunely  befriended,  after  squeezing  me  by  the 
hand  a  dozen  times,  took  his  seat  beside  me  and  insisted 
making  my  better  acquaintance. 

Something  there  was  about  this  individual — a  certain 
knowing  air,  half-comic,  half-disconsolate,  betokened 
the  reckless  adventurer  whose  entrance  into  a  coffee- 
room  is  the  signal  for  the  landlord  to  take  away  the- 
silver  spoons. 

In  the  course  of  conversation  with  the  stranger,  we 
slided  imperceptibly  into  that  most  attractive  of  all 
topics,  the  state  of  our  mutual  affairs.  My  story  was 
soon  told,  though  not  without  repeated  interruptions 
from  the  laughter  of  my  companion,  who  inquired, 
when  I  had  brought  it  to  a  close,  what  I  intended  to  be 
my  next  plan  of  proceeding. 

I  have  been  considering  whether  I  should  not  make 
the  best  of  my  way  to  the  city  and  endeavor  to  pro. 
cure  a  situation  with  some  chemist  or  apothecary. 
I  have  had  some  little  experience  in  that  line." 

"Killed  your  man,  no  doubt  What  say  you  to  offer 
ing  your  services  to  some  of  the  farmers  hereabouts? 
This  is  just  the  right  time,  you  know." 

"Sir!"  said  I  indignantly,  "I  was  born  for  nobler 
objects  than  to  walk  at  the  plow." 

''Ambitious!  'Gad,  I  like  your  spirit." 

"Yes, 'Father  O'Flannaghan  used  often  to  say  that 
if  I  played  my  cards  well,  I  should  rise  in  the  world. 
4The  lad  is  not  without  genius,'  was  his  frequent  remark 
to  my  father." 

"Genius!  Curse  the  phrase!  I  never  hear  it  but  I 
think  of  a  detective.  Nothing  flourishes  that  has  the 


HUMAN   NATURE.  19 

slightest  connection  with  it.  Look  at  me — I  shouM 
have  been  a  rich  man  by  this  time,  if  it  had  not  been 
lor  my  genius." 

"Yet Father  O'Flannaghan  used  to  say  that  genius, 
properly— 

•'Hang  Father  O'Flannaghan!  He  knew  nothing 
about  the  matter.  AVill  genius  fill  your  purse  when  it 
is  empty — will  it  go  bail  for  you — will  it  even  pay 
your  bill  to-night?  But  let  us  drop  the  subject.  Are 
you  fond  of  the  stage!"" 

"Very.  In  fact,  I  believe  I  have  a  turn  that  way; 
for  when  living  with  Dr.  Killquick,  I  was  a  constant 
visitor  at  the  theater." 

''Indeed!  Then,  perhaps,  I  may  bo  able  to  do  some 
thing  for  you.  I  am  an  actor  myself." 

"Is  it  possible?"  said  I,  in  a  most  deferential  manner; 
"yet,  now  I  come  to  look  more  closely  into  your  feat 
ures,  I  do  think  I  saw  you  play  Hamlet  one  night — at 
least,  I  remember  a  performer  being  hissed  off  the  stage 
in  that  character." 

"Sir,  you  have  a  very  absurd  way  of  expressing  your 
self.  I  never  played  Hamlet  and  never  mean  to  do  so. 
The  people  are  wholy  incapable  of  appreciating  a  man 
of  mind  in  such  a  part." 

I  was  convinced  by  this  I  was  right,  though  I  dis 
creetly  kept  my  opinion  to  myself,  while  the  actor  pro 
ceeded  as  follows: — 

"Yes,  sir,  I  am  not  only  an  actor  of  experience;  but, 
unfortunately,  also  of  just  sufficient  genius  to — 

"Excite  the  jealousy  of  your  brother  actors." 

"Egad,  you  have  hit  it.  In  the  last  corps  to  which  7 
attached  myself,  I  was  a  deserved  favorite!" 

"How,  then,  came  you  to  leave  it?" 

"Leave  it?  It  was  impossible  to  stay.  Why,  siv, 
would  you  believe  it,  notwithstanding  the  houses  1  drew 
as  "Brulgruddery,"  the  manager,  jealous  of  ray  gen iu*. 
put  another  man  into  the  part",  and,  not  content  wito 
thu,  actually  stuck  his  name  in  large  red  letters  at  ta« 
top  of  the  play-bill,  while  he  printed  mine  in  the  very 


20  HUMAN  NATURE. 

smallest  type  at  the  bottom — Scandalous!    Wasn't  it?" 

"Yes;  but  what  brings  you  to  this  out-of-the-way 
placer" 

"I  have  been  assisting  at  a  friend's  benefit  and  am 
now  on  my  way  to  join  the  company — by  the  by,  just 
talk  of  pleasure!  The  actor  is  the  only  man  who  really 
knows  what  it  means.  At  one  moment,  flush  of  wealth; 
at  another,  without  a  sixpence;  this  night,  figuring  in 
a  gorgeous  theater;  the  next,  in  a  homely  barn;  now, 
sipping  champagne  with  squires;  and  now,  swipes  with 
vagrants;  hanging  loose  on  the  skirts  of  society,  a  very 
Arab  in  independence — there  is  no  condition  in  life  so 
replete  with  all  the  elements  of  change,  and  conse 
quently,  of  interest,  as  that  of  the  actor.  True,  he  has 
his  cares!  But,  despite  my  own  ill-luck,  your  stroller 
is  the  happiest  dog  in  existence." 

"You  don't  say  so!"  said  I,  catching  the  infection  of 
his  convivial  enthusiasm. 

"Indeed,  but  I  do,  though!  Conceive  the  ecstacy  of 
a  first  appearance!  The  crowded  house — the  glittering 
lights — the  inspiring  music — the  stiire  of  approving  crit 
ics  from  the  pit — the  fond  gaze  of  beauty  from  the  boxes 
— and  then,  as  the  first  wave  of  your  plumage  is  caught 
from  the  side-wings,  the  profound,  universal  hush,  so 
sudden,  so  intense,  that  were  a  god  but  to  blow  his 
nose,  there  would  be  an  instant  cry  from  all  parts  of 
the  house  of  'Throw  him  over' — conceive  all  this,  I  say, 
and  allow,  with  me,  that  the  actor's  life  is  the  only  one 
to  which  the  name  of  pleasure  can  really  apply!" 

My  fancy  was  fired  with  this  description!  In  idea,  I 
was  already  a  Garrick!  My  companion  marked  my 
emotion.  "You  would  make  a  capital  actor!"  he  con 
tinued;  "but  I  will  not  press  the  question  further  at 
present.  I  see  you're  affected ;  probably  by  to-morrow 
you  will  be  inclined  to  entertain  a  favorable  opinion  of 
my  project.  Meantime,  I'll  give  you  a  toast — 'Success 
to  the  stage.'  'All  the  world's  a  stag-e,'  as  the  divine 
Billy  says.  Not,  bad,  hey?" 

We  sat  talking  till  long  past  midnight;  when,   the 


HUMAN   NATURE.  21 

candles  low  in  the  sockets,  and  the  landlord  imperative, 
we  retired  to  our  rooms. 

The  next  morning  I  awoke  with  a  desperate  headnehr, 
which  was  still  further  increased  by  the  amount  of  the 
bill  sent  in  by  the  landlord;  who,  deceived  by  my  ap 
pearance,  had  charged  me  at  a  most  exorbitant  rate. 
This  comes  of  looking  like  a  gentleman! 

The  hour  of  reckoning  is  the  most  melancholy  in  the 
whole  twenty-four.  I  found  it  so;  and  was  ruminating 
sadly  on  my  destitute  state,  when  my  new  friend  came 
to  my  assistance. 

"I  can  (guess  your^thoughts,"  said  he;  "whenever  a 
man  puts  on  a  long  face,  it  is  always  for  want  of 
money." 

"You  have  guessed  right.  I  am  seriously  troubled, 
just  now,  on  that  score." 

"No  wonder  !  all  scores  are  troublesome.  But  be  of 
good  cheer,  man,  I  will  pay  the  reckoning.  Nay,  no 
apologies;  besides,  I  have  taken  a  fancy  to  you." 

"But,  my  dear  sir — 

"Not  a  word.  Remember,  I  am  now  in  your  debt,  for 
last  night  you  saved  me  from  a  broken  head.  If,  how 
ever,  your  pride  dislikes  the  idea  of  obligation  to  a 
stranger,  you  have  it  in  your  power  to  appease  your 
conscience  by  accepting  an  engagement.  I  am  sure  I 
shall  be  able  to  get  you  one;  for  our  company  is  sadly 
in  want  of  a  novelty." 

Needs  must  when  the  devil  drives  ;  so,  I  allowed  my 
friend  to  discharge  the  entire  reckoning,  which  task 
performed,  we  set  forward  on  our  journey,  under  the 
refreshing  influence  of  a  slow  drizzle  which  threat 
ened  to  keep  us  company  the  whole  way 


22  THEATRICALS., 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THEATRICALS. 

Contrary,  I  believe,  to  nine  ont  often  theatrical  aspi 
rants,  I  commenced  my  campaign  under  very  flatter 
ing  auspices.  Thanks  to  the  dramatic  predilections  of 
Doctor  Killqnick,  and  the  license  allowed  me  in  my 
studies  by  Father  O'Flannaghan!  I  had  been  in  the 
habit,  during  my  unbewhiskered  juvenility,  of  devour 
ing  a  vast  variety  of  plays  ;  so  that  when  I  entered  on 
my  stage  career,  with  these  and  the  additional  ad 
vantages  of  a  few  preliminary  lessons  from  my  new 
acquaintance,  it  was  not  altogether  a  novelty  to  me. 

After  my  first  appearance  in  Romeo,  the  editor  of 
the  leading  journal  there,  published,  the  day  after  my 
debut  the  following-  striking  and  pertinent  remarks  : — 
"Last  night  a  Mr.  Terence^  Felix  O'Blarney  made  his 
first  appearance  here  as  Romeo.  This  young  aspirant 
possesses  every  qualification  for  the  part.  He  has  ex 
cellent  lungs;  is  exceedingly  vigorous  in  his  move 
ments;  and  stands  nearly,  if  not  quite,  six  feet  in  his 
shoes.  His  dress  was  singularly  picturesque,  and  he 
was  received  with  enthusiasm  by  a  most  respectable 
and  fashionable  audience.  We  understand,  he  appears 
to-morrow  night  as  Harlequin.  Judging  from  his 
Romeo,  we  should  conceive  he  would  play  this  very 
difficult  part  to  admiration.  Both  characters  have  many 
points  in  common;  both  are  young,  active,  in  love,  and 
fond  of  leaping,  and  cqndcmned  to  experience  the  most 
startling  vicissitudes.  We  wish  Mr.  O'Blarney  all  the 
success  that  his  genius  so  richly  merits." 

This  able  criticism  brought  me  into  instant  notice. 
Indeed,  such  and  so  sudden  was  my  reputation,  that  be 
fore  my  first  month  had  expired,  I  was  promoted,  with 
the  offer  of  a  free  benefit  at  the  close  of  the  season. 


THEATRICALS.  23 

My  second  and  third  appearances  were  as  Hamlet 
and  Harlequin,  both  of  which  trying  characters  I  person 
ated  the  same  evening.  Public  opinion  was  seriously 
divided  on  this  occasion.  The  more  intellectual  among 
the  community  preferred  rny  Hainlet;  the  more  mer 
curial,  my  Harlequin.  If,  on  so  delicate  a  topic,  it  may 
be  permitted  me  to  volunteer  an  opinion,  I  should  say- 
that  my  Hamlet  was  the  triumph  of  mind,  my  Harle 
quin  of  muscle. 

In  consequence  of  my  flattering  success,  I  was  in 
vited  to  play  the  leading  parts  at  every  theater  and 
barn  in  that  civilized  quarter  of  Ireland.  This  desul 
tory  mode  of  life  introduced  me  to  many  odd  charac 
ters,  and  engaged  me  in  many  odd  adventures,  some  of 
a  tragic,  others  of  a  comic  character.  One  in  particu 
lar,  of  the  latter  class,  took  place  under  circumstances 
of  marked  singularity. 

The  manager  had  announced  for  representation  a 
melo-drama,  in  which,  among  other  attractions,  was  to 
be  introduced  a  view  of  the  Lakes  of  Killarney,  painted 
expressly  for  the  occasion.  The  announcement  took 
prodigiously,  and  on  the  appointed  night  the  barn  was 
crowded  to  suffocation.  So  far.  all  was  well;  but,  un 
luckily,  just  at  the  moment  when  we  were  preparing  to 
draw  up  the  curtain,  we  discovered  that  our  scene- 
painter,  in  revenge  for  some  real  or  fancied  affront  of 
fered  him  by  the  manager,  had  inoculated  the  entire 
landscape  with  charcoal ,  and,  not  content  with  this 
lively  sample  of  indepeiidence,  had  actually  eloped,  and, 
accompanied  by  the  treasurer,  had  carried  off  with  him 
the  night's  proceeds 

Here  was  a  dilemma  !  What,  in  Heaven's  name,  was 
to  be  done  ?  This  question  we  kept  perpetually  asking 
each  other  ;  but,  alas  !  not  one  of  us  could  answer  it. 

Meantime  the  audience  became  clamorous  for  the 
curtain  to  draw  up  • '  Squalls,  shouts  of  laughter,  and 
threats  of  vengeance  pealed  in  all  directions,  and  even 
the  orchestra — notwithstanding  it  consisted  of  two 
cracked  fiddles — failed  to  allay  the  storm. 


24  THEATRICALS. 

In  this  predicament,  our  manager  proposed  an  ap 
peal  to  the  audience.  But  here,  again,  a  difficulty  pre 
sented  itself.  Who  was  to  be  the  spokesman:*  Each 
declined  the  honor  in  favor  of  the  other,  until,  at 
length — no  better  scheme  presenting  itself — it  was  re 
solved  that  we  should  all  of  us  attempt  our  escape  out 
of  a  window  at  the  rear  of  the  stage. 

The  manager  Avas  the  ir.st  to  make  the  experiment, 
and  being  of  a  thin,  spare  habit, succeeded  to  his  heart's 
content.  The  rest  followed  in  rotation,  until  it  cama 
to  the  manager's  wife's  turn,  who  was  an  immensely 
fat  woman,  with  a  singular  exuberance  of  bustle,  and 
consequently  stuck  fast  in  the  window,  with  her  neck 
and  shoulders  out,  but  the  rest  of  her  person  hanging 
suspended  over  the  stage.  In  this  grotesque  position, 
she  kicked,  shoved,  and  strove  to  wriggle  herself 
through  the  aperture;  but  in  vain — her  obesity  put  a 
veto  on  all  hopes  of  emancipation.  I  think  I  never  saw 
a  tighter  fit ! 

At  this  critical  juncture  I  was  the  only  one  left  upon 
the  stage.  There  was  evidently  no  chance  of  escape; 
so,  as  a  last  resource — for  the  audience  had  by  this  time 
become  furious — I  summoned  the  orchestra,  bade  them 
strike  up  "St.  Patrick's  Day,"  and  then,  slowly  drawing 
aside  the  curtain,  advanced  in  front  of  the  stage,  made 
a  profound  obeisance,  and,  pointing  to  the  fat  dame 
who  hung  wriggling  from  the  window,  exclaimed 
aloud:  "Ladies  and  gentlemen,  behold  a  view  of  tho 
Lakes  of  Killarncy!"  ' 

Whether  the  likeness  struck  them  or  not,  I  cannot 
say;  but  never  was  any  appeal  more  successful.  The 
audience  literally  shouted  with  laughter,  nor  was  peace 
restored  till  they  had  testified  the  excess  of  their  satis 
faction  by  a  general  fight,  in  the  bustle  of  which  I 
effected  my  escape.  How  the  manager's  wife  effected 
hers,  I  know  not — possibly  she  is  sticking  in  the  win 
dow  to  this  hour. 

For  nearly  two  seasons,  I  continued  acting.  My  por 
trait,  or  something  like  a  portrait,  was  exhibited  at 


THEATRICALS.  25 

every  shop;  my  witticisms  repented  at  every  table;  my 
attitudes  were  the  envy  of  the  men,  my  countenance 
the  admiration  of  the  women. 

Among  the  number  of  those  to  whom  my  convivial 
abilities  especially  recommended  themselves  was  a  rich, 
retired  old  tradesman,  by  the  name  of  O'Brien.  This 
man  had  a  niece,  who,  though  perhaps  not  much  of  a 
beauty,  and  still  less  of  a  chicken  in  point  of  age,  inas 
much  as  she  was  fully  four  years  my  senior,  was  the 
acknowledged  heiress  of  all  her  uncle's  property. 

It  was  chiefly  through  this  lady's  maneuvers  that  I 
first  got  a  footing  in  the  old  man's  house;  for  she  had 
seen  me  in  most  of  my  favorite  characters,  and,  being 
smitten  with  the  faculties  of  the  actor,  was  prepared  to 
extend  her  predilection  to  the  man. 

When  a  woman  is  once  determined  on  a  point,  there 
is  little  doubt  but  that  she  will  in  the  long  run  accom 
plish  it.  Convinced  that  I  was  the  only  man  who  would, 
could,  should,  or  ought  to  make  her  happy,  Catharine 
soon  contrived  to  give  me  a  hint  of  the  nature  of  her 
feelings  towards  me.  In  vain  did  her  uncle,who  found 
means  to  gain  possession  of  her  secret,  protest,  entreat, 
threaten;  in  vain  forbid  me  to  visit  his  house;  in  vain 
talk  of  disinheriting  his  niece;  in  vain  point  out  to  her 
the  madness  of  marrying  a  fellow  whose  sole  stock  in 
trade  was  his  assurance; — the  young  lady's  spirit  was 
up,  and  she  vowed,  with  a  saucy  toss  of  the  head,  that 
she  would  marry  the  man  of  her  choice,  and  him  alone. 

I,  of  course,  reciprocated  these  sentiments,  but  fre 
quent  and  various  were  the  hazards  I  encountered  in 
my  efforts  to  impress  them  on  the  heart  of  Catharine. 
Once,  while  waiting  for  her  at  midnight  by  the  garden 
gate,  I  was  mistaken  by  her  uncle  for  a  robber,  and 
very  nearly  brought  clown  at  a  long  shot;  on  another 
occasion,  I  was  saluted  with  the  contents  of  a  slop-pail 
from  a  garret-window;  and  in  a  third  instance,  I  was 
kept  cooling  my  heels  a  full  hour  beneath  the  moon 
light,  till  my  teeth  chattered  like  a  pair  of  castanets. 
Making  love  by  midnight,  when  the  thermometer  is 


2P>  OUR   WEDDING   JOURNEY. 

below  zero,  is  harder  work  than  most  people  seem  to 
have  any  idea  of. 

But  perseverance  does  wonders  !  I  contrived  to  ob 
tain — first  one  secret  interview — then  a  second — then  a 
third — then  a  fourth,  fifth  and  sixth — until,  at  length,  it 
became  but  too  clear  that  nothing  was  left  but  an  elope 
ment. 

Mr.  O'Brien  was  panic-stricken  when  the  intelligence 
of  this  impending  event  first  reached  his  ears.  But 
finding  that  every  expedient  failed,  he  made  a  virtue 
of  necessity  and  finally  consented  to  our  union. 

Within  a  week  from  the  day  when  the  nuptial-knot 
was  tied,  Mrs.  O'Blarnev  and  myself  started  off' for  the 
wedding  tour.  Old  O'Brien,  who,  notwithstanding  his 
munificence  to  Catharine,  was  very  contracted  and 
tradesman-like  in  his  notions,  was  almost  paralyzed  at 
the  grandeur  of  our  intentions,  and  would  have  kept  us 
under  his  own  eye;  but  the  lady  was  bent  on  seeing  the 
world,  and  would  listen  neither  to  advice  nor  remon 
strance. 


CHAPTER  V. 

OUR  WEDDING   JOURNEY. 

Our  first  stay  of  any  duration  was  in  Paris.  I  had 
long  heard  that  this  city  was  famous  for  the  Fine  Arts, 
and,  truly,  I  never  met  with  such  finished  specimens  of 
cookery! 

After  a  short  stay,  we  quitted  the  French  capital 
for  Frankfort,  whence  we  made  a  hasty  tour  through 
some  of  the  minor  principalities.  The  magnificence 
of  a  few  of  these  German  quite  astounded  me.  Think 
of  his  Serene  Highness  the  Prince  of  Saxe  Schweig- 
hausen,  with  upwards  of  sixty  quarterings  on  his  .-inns, 
being  absolute  lord  and  master  of  a  territory  contain 
ing  nearly  ten  thousand  inhabitants,  yielding  a  c)ear 
revenue  of  almost  nine  hundred  pounds  per  annum, and 


OUH   WEDDING   JOUKNEY.  27 

supporting  an  army  of  some  twelve  dozen  private  sol 
diers,  exclusive  of  six  field-officers,  and  a  band  worthy 
to  vie  with  the  orchestra  of  one  of  our  minor  theaters! 

To  this  most  puissant  sovereign  I  had  the  honor  of 
being  publicly  presented  at  court.  To  be  sure,  the  ex 
hibition  cost  me  half-a-crown  in  fees.  But  what  of 
that  ?  Royalty  is  not  an  every-day  show.  Besides,  his 
Highness  was,  without  exception,  the  fattest  man  1  had 
ever  seen,  and  in  England,  it  would  have  cost  me  a  shil 
ling  to  see  a  prize  ox. 

We  found  the  metropolis  of  this  mighty  monarch's  king 
dom  in  a  grievous  state  of  excitement.  An  Italian  singer 
— at  that  time  quite  the  rage  on  the  Continent — had  en 
gaged  to  give  a  series  of  vocal  performances  at 
Schweighausen,  but,  just  at  the  very  moment  when  the 
royal  family  and  noblesse  wrere  all  anxious  expectation, 
the  fair  cantatrice  split  upon  terms,  and  declared  off. 
Here  was  a  shock  to  the  grand  monarqud  Never  had 
such  an  affront  been  put  upon  himself  or  his  princi 
pality  1  It  became  quite  a  national  affair.  A  cabinet 
council  was  instantly  summoned,  which,  after  some 
hours' deliberation,  despatched  a  courier,  with  sealed 
despatches,  to  the  contumelious  vocalist;  while,  from 
the  hurryings  to  and  fro  of  the  dames  of  honor,  and  the 
grave,  mysterious  looks  of  the  courtiers,  you  would 
have  sworn  a  revolution  was  impending.  How  the  af 
fair  ended  I  know  not,  as  I  did  not  stay  to  see;  but  I 
heard,  subsequently,  that  the  cabinet,  deeming  it  be 
neath  the  national  dignity  to  reinforce  the  army  and 
proclaim  war  against  a  woman,  wisely  came  to  her 
terms,  which  were  so  exorbitant  that  they  crippled  the 
exchequer  for  months  afterward. 

With  our  visits  to  Paris,  Frankfort,  Switzerland 
and  the  other  et  cateras  incidental  to  such  an  ex 
pensive  mode  of  life,  I  found,  after  a  fortnight's  resi 
dence  on  the  Strada  Chiaja,  that  my  wife's  fortune  was 
daily  oozing  out  of  my  possession;  so,  in  order  to  sup 
ply  the  deficiency,  I  was  compelled  to  have  recourse  to 

£' 


28  OUR  AVEDDLN'G  JOURN'EY. 

For  a  long  time,  I  concealed  this  propensity  from 
Mrs.  O'Blarney.  But  what  can  escape  the  lynx  eye  of 
curiosity  ?  It  so  happened  that  she  was  one  day  smit 
ten  with  a  sudden  fancy  to  make  a  purchase  of  some 
tempting  goods;  when,  on  applying  to  me,  she  found 
that  I  was  wholly  unable  to  accommodate  her  with  cash. 

In  the  course  of  the  evening  a  mutual  explanation 
took  place,  when  I  candidly  told  Catharine  that,  unless 
she  assigned  over  to  me  the  annuity  which  the  suspi 
cions  of  her  uncle  had  settled  on  her,  I  should  infallibly 
become  a  ruined  man.  To  my  astonishment  she  re 
fused,  adding  that  in  future  nothing  should  prevent 
her  doing  that  justice  to  herself  which  I  had  so  scandal 
ously  neglected.  The  remark  was  cutting,  and,  under 
the  circumstances,  ungenerous;  though  its  severity  was 
somewhat  blunted  by  the  promise  which  my  wife 
shortly  after  made  me,  of  writing  to  Mr.  O'Brien  a 
statement  of  our  embarrassments,  with  a  request  that 
he  would  render  us  prompt  pecuniary  assistance.  To 
this  note  I  attached  a  postscript,  inclosing  a  Neapolitan 
physician's  receipt  for  the  gout. 

By  the  earliest  post — for  the  old  man  prided  himself 
on  his  punctuality — an  answer  was  returned  to  our  ap 
plication.  But,  alas  !  its  import  was  anything  but  flat 
tering.  The  writer  began  by  observing  that  he  could  not 
think  of  advancing  money  to  people  so  little  acquainted 
with  its  value;  that  he  had  always  anticipated  this 
would  be  the  result  of  Catharine's  ill-advised  marriage, 
which,  she  might  do  him  the  justice  to  remember,  he  had 
resolutely  opposed  from  the  first;  that  he  thought,  un 
der  the  circumstances,  the  best  thing  we  could  both  -do 
would  ba  to  retrench  our  household  expenditure,  and, 
in  the  bosom  of  a  strict  and  cheap  seclusion,  strive  to 
regain  that  composure  of  which,  it  was  but  too  evi 
dent,  we  both  stood  in  need.  The  letter  concluded  by 
thanking  me  for  my  receipt  for  the  gout,  which,  how 
ever,  the  churlish  old  fox  asserted,  whether  intended 
to  do  so  or  not,  had  made  him  infinitely  worse  than  he 
was  before  he  had  recourse  to  it. 


OUR   WEDDING  JOURNEY.  29 

Tula  reply  decided  my  fate.  Poverty  having  come  in 
at  the  door,  timid  Love,  as  a  matter  of  course,  "got 
orer  the  back  fence."  Henceforth,  I  mot  with  nothing 
but  reproaches  from  my  wife.  For  some  weeks,  how 
ever,  I  bore  her  altered  conduct  with  submissivencss. 
When  I  espied  a  frown  on  her  brow,  I  strove  with 
words  of  endearment  to  avert  the  thunder-cloud;  I  re 
minded  her  of  the  days  of  our  courtship,  when  she  was 
my  Juliet  and  I  was  her  Romeo;  but,  alas  !  at  the  very 
moment  when  her  heart  was  softening,  the  slightest 
allusion  to  the  annuity  would  bring  back  all  her  unpo- 
etic  notions  of  self-interest 

Day  by  day,  hour  by  hour,  Mrs.  O'Blarney's  ill-humor 
increased.  If,  one  moment,  she  was  comparatively  se 
rene,  the  next,  she  blew  a  hurricane.  Having1  been  a 
spoiled  child  from  her  very  .cradle,  she  had  little  or  no 
command  of  IVT temper.  To  soften  her  was  difficult — 
to  subdue,  impossible.  As  well  might  I  have  attempted 
to  check  Niagara  with  a  bulrush. 

Such  was  my  domestic  position  when  one  disastrous 
evening  after  I  had  earnestly  supplicated  my  wife  to 
accommodate  me,  if  only  by  way  of  loan,  with  the 
usual  half-yearly  allowance  which  she  had  just  received 
from  her  uncle,  in  order  that  I  might  disembarrass  my 
self  of  certain  pecuniary  obligations,  and  be  enabled  to 
turn  over  a  ne\v  leaf,  the  impetuous  lady  not  only  re 
fused  my  petition;  but  pointed  her  refusal  by  some 
scornful  allusions  to  what  she  called  my  general  profli 
gacy. 

Stung  to  the  quick  by  her  manner,  I  threatened  to 
take  leave  of  her  forever,  on  which  she  replied— 

"Oh,  do  pray  go  !  I  desire  nothing  better;  the  very 
sight  of  you  is  odious  to  me.  Would  to  Heaven  I  had 
never  met  with  such  a  monster!" 

"Monster,  forsooth!  you  must  have  been  looking  in 
your  glass  lately,  my  dear,  which  has  made  the  monstrous 
familiar  to  you." 

The  cool  way  in  which  I  said  this  had  quite  an  elec 
trical  effect  on  my  wife,  who  forthwith  proceeded  to 


30  A   WARM    RECEPTION. 

pour  on  me  such  a  torrent  of  abuse  that  at  last  my 
patience  wholly  gave  way,  and  springing  down  stairs, 
I  was  out  of  sight  in  an  instant. 

On  reaching  the  street,  I  kept  wandering  up  and  down, 
cursing  my  evil  -destiny,  and  endeavoring  to  shape 
out  some  plans  for  the  future,  till,  finding  that  I  could 
settle  down  to  nothing,  I  dismissed  all  further  reflec 
tion,  and  bent  my  steps  toward  one  of  the  public 
cafe's, 

With  a  brain  heated  by  excitement,  I  strolled  into 
the  San  Carlos,  where,  after  looking  about  me  for 
some  time,  and  being  challenged  to  try  my  luck  at  a 
game  of  hazard,  I  threw  down  a  piece  of  gold — was 
successful — threw  down  a  second,  a  third — then  trebled 
and  quadrupled  my  stakes,  till  at  length,  after  an 
hour's  play,  without  the  slightest  effort  of  skill,!  came 
away  the  winner  of  upwards  of  a  hundred  pounds. 

Such  a  run  of  good  luck  completely  upset  what 
little  judgment  I  ever  possessed.  I  felt  my  heart  warm 
again  to  my  wife;  and,  immediately  on  quitting  the 
gaming-table,  Hew  homeward,  fully  resolved,  in  the 
wild  glee  of  the  moment,  to  make  her  the  amende 
honorable',  though  I  must  confess,  at  the  same  tune, 
that  I  was  in  that  feverish,  unsettled  state  of  mind 
when  a  sneer,  or  even  a  frown,  is  sufficient  to  turn  the 
sr-ale,  and  upset  all  one's  best  resolutions. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


A   WARM    RECEPTION. 


"So  you  have  come  back!"  said  my  wife,  miscon 
struing  the  motives  of  my  return;  "and  in  a  pretty 
condition  you  have  returned!"  for  my  flushed  counte 
nance  was  too  marked  to  escape  her  notice. 

"Catharine,  be  quiet,  or  else — 

"Don't  think  to  frighten  me,  sir;  I  care  nothing  for 


A  WARM   RECEPTION.  31 

the  threats  of  a  man  I  despise.  You  have  insulted 
me  too  grossly  to  be  forgiven,  and  now,  by  way  of 
atonement,  you  come  back  in  a  state  of  intoxication. 
Shame  on  you !  I  wonder  you  can  dare  to  look  me  in 
the  face!" 

"Catharine,"  said  I,  with  an  effort  at  calmness,  "listen 
to  me,  and  for  the  last  time.  I  have  come  back,  believe 
me  or  not,  as  you  please,  solely  for  the  purpose  of 
making  reparation  for — 

"Reparation!  Is  it  by  your  drunkenness  you  hope  to 
make  reparation  ?" 

"Perhaps  so,  perhaps  not.  However,  be  this  as  it 
may,  my  return  is  now  prompted  by  the  best  of 
motives." 

"Oh,  yes,"  replied  my  wife,  with  a  sneer,  "I  know 
the  motives  well.  I  can  see  through  them,  sir." 

"Hear  me  out!"  said  I,  in  a  voice  of  thunder. 

"I  won't." 

"Spiteful,  unforgiving  old — " 

The  word  "old"  touched  my  wife  in  the  sorest  point. 
"Spiteful"  she  might  have  passed  over;  "unforgiving" 
she  might  have  smiled  at;  but  "old" — there  was  too 
much  truth  in  the  phrase  to  be  readily  digested;  so, 
despairing,  in  the  frenzy  of  the  moment,  of  finding 
words  adequate  to  her  feelings,  she  actually  flew  for 
assistance  to  the  foot-stool — discharged  it,  without 
ceremony,  at  my  head — and  then,  as  1  rushed  a  second 
time  from  the  house,  flew  after  me,  crying  at  the  very 
top  of  her  voice,  "Aye,  go !  Do  go !  I  dare  you  to  go ! 
Brute!  Monster!  Barbarian!  Old,  indeed!" 

This  last  insult  was  not  to  be  borne;  and  when  I  re 
fleeted  on  the  motives  that  had  drawn  me  home  again- 
that  I  had  sought  my  wife  in  a  frank,  conciliator] 
spirit,  and  instead  of  being  met  by  answering  courtesy 
had  been  treated  worse  than  a  clog — I  became  [ar 
unusual  thing  with  me]  quite  beside  myself  wit! 
passion,  and  before  I  was  well  aware  of  my  proximity 
found  myself  standing  close  beside  the  quay. 

Kight  was  now  drawing  on,  and  it  so  happened  thul 


32  A  \VARM  RECEPTION. 

si  vessel,  taking  advantage  of  a  favoring  wind,  was 
just  about  to  set  sail  for  Marseilles.  The  opportunity 
was  irresistible.  Judgment,  discretion,  principle — all, 
all  obeyed  the  headlong  impulse  of  the  moment;  and 
with  my  wife's  taunts  still  ringing  in  my  ears,  the  foot 
stool  still  whistling  about  my  head,  and  a  busy  devil 
at  my  elbow  goading  me  on  to  ruin,  I  sought  out  the 
captain  of  the  vessel —caught  him  just  as  he  was 
stepping  into  a  boat,  and  concluded  with  him.  for  a 
conveyance  to  Marseilles. 

An  instant  after,  and  I  was  on  board.  The  signal 
was  made  for  sailing;  the  vessel  shot  merrily  through 
the  waters,  and  I  was  far  advanced'  on  my  voyage 
arcoss  the  bay,  ere  I  called  to  mind  my  deserted  wife! 
Infatuated  man!  But  remorse  was  then  of  no  avail.  It 
was  too  late  to  return.  Besides,  had  it  even  been 
possible,  I  felt  convinced  I  could  never  have  mustered 
assurance  enough  again  to  face  the  woman,  whom,  I 
could  not  but  feel,  iThad  wronged.  My  very  modesty 
rose  in  arms  against  me. 

After  a  brief  voyage  the  vessel  reached  Marseilles, 
where  I  waited  just  one  day  to  make  some  necessary 
purchases  and  then  set  off  for  England. 

The  first  few  mornings  after  my  arrival  in  London 
were  spent  in  a  survey  of  the  various  public  buildings 
in  and  about  the  metropolis —  I  remember  in  particular 
being  much  struck  with  Newgate — while  my  evenings 
were  devoted  to  the  theaters. 

"With  respect  to  a  profession,  my  first  serious  views 
wrere,  of  course,  directed  to  the  stage,  and  accordingly, 
when  I  had  devoted  quite  sufficient  time  to  the  gentle 
man-like  occupation  of  doing  nothing,  I  presented  my 
self  early  one  morning  at  the  theater;  inquired  of  a 
servant  in  attendance  whether  the  great  lessee  were 
within;  and  if  so,  whether  he  could  honor  me  with  an 
audience. 

The  man  glanced  at  the  modest,  humble  expression 
of  iny  countenance;  I  understood  the  hint,  and  kiiew 
the  manager  \vas  out. 


A  WARM  RECEPTION.  &j 

The  next  day  I  called  and  met  with  the  like  success 
—the  great  man  was  busy,  and  could  not  be  disturbed. 
The  third  day  he  was  at  rehearsal;  the  fourth,  he  was 
reading  a  new  piece  in  the  green-room;  the  fifth,  he 
was  negotiating  an  amicable  arrangement  with  the 
hind-legs  of  a;i  elephant,  both  of  which  had  struck  for 
an  advance  of  wages;  but  on  the  sixth,  as  he  had  only 
two  small  melo-dramatists  with  him,  he  condescended 
to  favor  me  with  an  audience. 

On  entering  his  august  presence,  I  opened  the  pro 
ceedings  by  a  few  brief  allusions  to  my  astonishing 
success  in  Ireland;  but  saw  at  once,  from  the  expression 
of  his  face,  and  the  shrug  of  his  broad,  fat  shoulders, 
that  I  had  not  the  slightest  chance.  Indeed,  he  hinted 
as  much  before  I  had  well  finished  my  exordium,  and 
then,  starting  off  from  the  subject,  began  to  bewail  his 
hard  fate  in  being  compelled  to  sacrifice  health,  time, 
and  inclination  on  the  altar  of  public  interest;  spoke 
of  the  important  calls  on  his  attention  that  daily  beset 
him,  from  individuals  of  the  highest  rank  and  influence 
in  the  kingdom,  and  that,  consequently,  I  might  deem 
myself  fortunate  in  the  opportunity  of  seeing  him  but 
for  ten  minutes;  rang  the  bell,  and  brought  round  him 
i  whole  host  of  theatrical  subalterns,  to  each  of  whom 
he  issued  his  mandates,  with  all  the  air  of  a  despot; 
and  then  cast  a  sidelong  glance  at  me,  to  see  whether 
I  were  duly  impressed  with  a  sense  of  his  temporal 
grandeur. 

i  neither  fainted  nor  went  off  in  hysterics,  but, 
perfectly  unruffled,  as  though  I  were  talking  to  a 
nere  unit  like  myself,  said,  "I  presume,  then,  sir,  you 
dscline  my  services?" 

"Unquestionably,  my  good  fellow;"  then,  as  if  he 
had  committed  himself  by  too  much  familiarity,  he 
added,  with  a  formal  bend  of  the  head,  "You  may  retire, 
young  man;  we  have  business  of  importance  to  transact 
with  our  worthy  friends  here,  just  now."  And  so  ended 
my  first  and  last  interview  with  the  manager  of  a 
theater! 


34  A  WARM  RECEPTION. 

My  next  speculation  was  in  periodical  literature. 
But  here,  too,  I  was  as  unsuccessful  as  with  the  stage. 
All  the  editors  of  all  the  current  magazines  scorned  to 
have  conspired  to  drive  me  frantic  with  disappointment. 
Grave  as  well  as  gay,  prose  as  well  as  verse,  every  tale, 
essay,  criticism,  and  epigram  I  contributed,  met  with 
precisely  the  same  treatment.  This,  however,  was  to 
have  boon  expected,  for  what  author  who  dates  from  a 
first-floor  front  with  a  French  dancing-master  con 
stantly  practicing  on  a  violin  over  his  head,  and  a  great 
healthy  vagabond  crying  "Rats!"  every  hour  of  the  day 
under  his  window,  can  hope  to  write  anything  worth 
reading? 

Luckily,  about  this  time,  I  was  in  the  frequent  habit 

of  meeting  with  the  late  Colonel .  This  well' 

known  old  man,  whose  brain  was  a  perfect  granary  of 
fashionable  anecdote,  and  who  had  been  closely  con 
nected  with  royalty  in  its  most  convivial  and  confiden 
tial  moments,  was  never  so  happy,  or  so  much  in  his 
element,  as  when  he  could  procure  a  respectful  listener, 
and  as  I  suited  him  admirably  in  this  respect — never 
yawning,  never  looking  incredulous,  and,  above  all, 
never  laughing  in  the  wrong  place — he  took  a  pro 
digious  fancy  to  me,  and  entertained  me  with  lots  of 
sly,  quaint,  piquant  anecdotes,  in  which  I  could  not 
but  fancy  I  perceived  the  germs  of  more  than  one 
fashionable  novel. 

Following  up  this  bright  idea,  I  took  care  to  glean 
all  the  various  stores  of  gossip  the  old  man  possessed; 
after  which  I  proceeded  to  clothe  them  from  the  ward 
robe  of  my  own  invention ;  super-added  a  plot  full  of 
delicate  entanglements;  an  impassioned  love-intrigile 
or  two;  an  ''intensely"  interesting  heroine,  who,  wore 
her  zone  loosened;  and  a  brisk  Bond-street  Adonis, 
more  accomplished  than  a  Crichton,  hut  more  pro 
fligate  than  a  Rochester,  This  done,  behfdd — a  fashion 
able  novel ! 

So  far,  so  good.  My  next  endeavor  was  to  secure  the 
(assistance  of  some  stirring,  influential  pubiiflher.  In 


THE  RESULT  OF  CRITICISMS.  35 

this  I  succeeded  beyond  my  hopes  (chiefly  in  consequence 
of  my  Carlton  House  anecdotage);  and,  in  the  course 
of  a  few  weeks,  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  m>  "Bon 
Ton"  duly  advertised  among  the  forthcoming  liovelties 
of  the  season,  as  "A  tale  of  real  life,  by  an  author  of  the 
highest  distinction." 

No  sooner  had  the  work  appeared  than  public  atten 
tion  was  still  further  attracted  towards  it,  by  a  series 
of  mysterious  paragraphs  in  the  papers,  indirectly 
ascribing  it  to  the  eloquent  and  sprightly  pen  of  his 

Royal  Highness  the  Duke  of ;  and,  that  nothing 

might  be  wanting  to  confirm  its  celebrity,  a  fresh 
string  of  advertisements  was  issued,  with  the  following 
extracts  from  the  literary  journals  of  the  day  attached 
to  them  by  way  of  rider: — 

"Bon  Ton"  is  a  tale  of  first-rate  ability;  the  author  is  the  Scott  of  fashionable 
life.— London  Museum. 

A  most  talented  tale,  full  of  point,  wit,  and  sarcasm.  The  writer  forcibly 
reminds  us  of  Sheridan. — Weekly  Lit.  Miscellany. 

We  have  been  favored  with  an  early  copy  of  this  work  (which  is  yet  unpublish 
ed),  and  may  conscientiously  say  of  the  author  that  he  is  quite  a  prose  Uyron. 
—  Town  and  Country  Magazine. 

Transcendent!  astoniehingl  superlative!— Star. 

It  is  truly  refreshing,  in  this  age  of  cant  and  humbug,  to  meet  u-ifh  a  novel 
like  ''Bon  Ton,''  ptnned  in  the  good  old  spirit  of  Smollett  and  Fielding.— 
Weekly  Repository. 

The  puns  of  this  exceedingly  facetious  noveust  are  worthy  of  Mr.  Rogers, 
the  eminent  banker.— John  Bull. 


CHAPTER 


THE  RESULT   OP  CRITICISMS. 

From  these  discriminating  criticisms,  it  will  naturally 
he  concluded  that  "Bon  Ton"  created  quite  a  sensation 
in  the  world  of  fashion  and  literature.  But  no,  nothing 
of  the  sort.  Notwithstanding1  I  attired  my  hero  in 
lavender-colored  slippers;  made  him  sarcastic  on  port 
wine;  intolerant  of  those  abandoned  miscreants  who 
eat  fish  with  a  knife  and  fork ;  learned  on  all  gastro 
nomic  matters; — notwithstanding  all  this,  "Bon  Ton" 


36  THE  RESULT  OF  CRiriCISjVTS. 

fell  as  stillborn  from  the  press  as  if  no  royal  duke  had 
been  conjectured  to  be  its  author! 

Having  thus  faile  1  in  fact,  I  thought,  1  would  next 
have  recourse  to  fiction.  Nothing  venture,  nothing 
gain;  so  I  set  about  a  History  of  Italy,  with  which  my 
residence  at  iS'aples  had  of  course  made  me  familiarly 
acquainted.  Strange  to  tell,  my  book,  even  though 
fiilel  with  elaborate  descriptions  of  Rome — a  city 
which  nothing  but  an  accident  prevented  me  from  visit- 
ing-?  met  with  as  discouraging  a  reception  as  "Bon 
Ton" — nay,  I  may  even  add,  a  worse,  for  on  bargaining 
for  a  portmanteau  a  few  months  afterward,  I  found  it 
lined  with  one  of  my  most  impassioned  apostrophes  to 
the  glory  of  ancient  Rome ! 

This  was  vexatious,  but  it  was  not  my  only  grievance. 
Misfortunes  never  drizzle  upon  a  man's  head.  They 
always  pour  down  on  him  in  torrents.  The  land 
lady— 

Oh,  sound  of  fear! 
tTnpleasing  to  an  author's  ear— 

at  whose  house  I  boarded,  having  long  suspected  my 
condition,  now  began  to  look  after  me  with  that  rest 
less  curiosity  which  a  discreet  father  exhibits  towards 
an  only  son  who  has  evinced  a  predilection  for  the  sea. 
At  first,  the  good  dame's  inquisitiveness  was  confined 
within  the  pale  of  politeness;  but  at  length,  as  my 
arrears  with  her  increased,  she  exchanged  the  oblique 
glance  for  the  direct  frown,  and  daily  vented  her 
spleen  in  coarse  allusions  to  my  appetite. 

My  situation  was  now  become  really  critical.  My 
money  was  nearly  all  expended,  and  my  entire  ward 
robe  was  on  my  back.  This  last  was  the  "unkindest 
cut  of  nil,"  for  any  one  acquainted  with  life  knows 
that  a  good  coat  is  half  the  secret  of  success.  Boy» 
dress  well  from  vanity;  men,  from  policy. 

Such  was  my  condition  when,  one  day  while  seated 
at  a  coffee-shop,  I  chanced  to  read  in  the  Times  journal 
gome  proposals  for  the  establishment  of  a  new  literary 
institution  in  the  metropolis.  Without  a  moment  s 


SESTTLT  OF  CRITICISM*  <*? 

delay,  I  despatched  a  long,  elaborate  letter  to  Broug 
ham,  who  was  mentioned  as  being  one  of  the  warmest 
patrons  of  the  institution,  in  which,  after  enumerating 
my  intellectual  qualifications,  I  proposed  myself  as  a 
lecturer  on  whatever  branch  of  knowledge  he  might 
feel  inclined  to  suggest.  I  added  that,  I  did  not 
object  to  teach  mathematics,  metaphysics,  chemistry, 
moral  philosophy,  jurisprudence,  the  fine  arts,  elocu 
tion,  music,  or  even  dancing. 

Within  the  week  I  received  an  answer  to  this  appli 
cation,  in  which,  after  complimenting  me  in  the  most 
flattering  terms  on  my  modesty,  the  illustrious  states 
man  declined  my  services,  on  the  very  natural  plea 
that  they  would  excite  universal  envy. 

Well,  this  avenue  to  fortune  closed,  a  variety  of 
others  suggested  themselves.  First,  I  thought  of  a 
merchant's  counting-house;  but  this  idea  was  no  sooner 
suggested  than  it  was  laid  aside,  for  where  and  how 
was  I  to  procure  the  requisite  certificate  of  character, 
ability,  and  so  forth  ? 

Next,  I  bethought  me  of  the  law.  This,  while  it 
lasted,  was  an  agreeable  illusion  enough,  fraught  with 
imposing  images  of  the  bench,  the  woolsack,"and  the 
king's  conscience.  But  when  I  came  to  look  at  the 
question  in  a  worldly,  common-sense  spirit,more  espec 
ially  when  I  reflected  that  without  impudence  a  law 
yer  is  as  sounding  brass  or  a  tinkling  cymbal,  I  f 'It 
with  a  sigh  that  the  defects  of  nature  were  insuperable. 

At  last,  a  grand  idea  struck  me,  I  resolved  to  try 
the  press.  I  had  often  heard  and  read  of  those  sprightly 
adventurers  who  contrive  to  earn  a  subsistence  by  pick 
ing  up,  or,  in  case  of  need,  inventing  accidents,  etc.,  for 
the  newspapers;  so  I  presented  myself  at  a  dull  period 
at  the  Planet  newspaper  office,  with  an  affecting  report 
of  a  young  lady  who  had  swallowed  a  teacupful  of  ar 
senic  and  water,  under  the  influence  of  derangement 
brought  on  by  the  "diabolical"  conduct  of  a  young 
ohiardsman. 

Tbis  paragraph  being  well  timed,  was  much  approved , 


38  THE   RESULT  OF  CRITICISMS. 

became  the  subject  of  an  indignant  leading  article 
in  many  of  the  ensuing  Sunday  journals,  "on  the  de 
moralized  condition  of  the  higher  classes,"  and  went 
the  round  of  the  provincial  press  under  the  title  of 
"Shocking  Suicide." 

My  next  Jterary  perpetration  was  a  police  report, 
wherein  I  detailed  the  particulars  of  a  pugilistic  en 
counter  between  two  men  in  a  style  of  the  most  ram 
pant  vivacity.  About  this  time,  too,  I  contributed 
about  a  foot  and  a  half  of  good  jokes  weekly  to  the 
Looker-on,  for  which  the  editor,  who  was  himself  a  wag 
of  the  first  water,  and  liked,  as  he  said,  to  encourage 
genius,  remunerated  me  at  a  very  handsome  rate.  But 
my  chief  reliance  was  on  the  Planet  newspaper,  on 
which,  by  adroit  flattery  of  the  proprietor — an  odd 
little  fellow,  with  a  style  of  writing  "  peculiarly  his 
own  " — I  contrived  to  gain  so  strong  a  hold,  that  after 
a  month's  probation,  I  was  declared  to  be  master  of  my 
business,  and  placed  on  the  establishment  as  a  sort  of 
flying  reporter  of  all  work. 

In  this  capacity,  I  exhibited  powers  of  invention  that 
would  have  done  honor  to  a  Scotch  novelist.  Scarcely 
a  day  passed  but  a  Mrs.  Tomkius  and  her  only  daugh 
ter  fell  from  a  one-horse  chaise  in  Tavistock  or  Bruns 
wick  squares;  or  a  Mr.  Sibthorpe,  a  stout  £rentleman 
ot  sixty,  with  a  wig  and  six  children,  brokers  leg  by 
stumbling  over  a  bit  of  orange-peel  which  some  urchin 
had  inconsiderately  flung  upon  the  pavement.  My 
phenomena  were  equally  creditable  to  my  tancy.  The 
Planet  abounded  in  accounts  of  extraordinary  goose 
berries,  which  measured  four  inches  around  the  waist; 
of  Irish  potatoes,  on  which  could  be  clearly  traced  the 
words  "Daniel  O'Connell;"  of  three  children  born  im 
promptu  at  a  birth;  of  goats  without  beards;  cows  with 
live  legs;  and  donkeys  with  horns  like  my  Lord — 

Not  unfrequently,  when  "extra  hands"  were  wanted 
I  made  my  appearance  in  the  gallery  in  the  House  of 
Commons — infinitely  to  the  annoyance  of  the  practice^ 
and  well-educated  gentlemen  who  attended  there — noV 


THE   RESULT   OF  CRITICISMS.  39 

one  of  whom,  however,  came  near  me,  whether  in  elo- 
quence  of  style,  originality  of  metaphor,  or  vivacity  of 
logic.  They  stuck  to  fact,  I  expatiated  in  the  airy 
regions  of  fiction. 

But  ingratitude  is  the  vice  of  public  men  in  England, 
I  had  actually  not  distinguished  myself  above  a  dozen 
times  in  the  gallery,  when  I  was  summoned  to  the  bar, 
ibr  a  breach  of  privilege  contained  in  a  report  of  one  of 
Sir  William  Wiseacre's  orations;  reprimanded  by  the 
Speaker  in  a  style  that  brought  the  blood  of  a  hundred 
ancestors  into  my  cheeks;  and  then  formally  dismissed 
from  the  Planet  establishment.  In  justification  of  his 
complaint,  Sir  William  urged  ^hat  he  was  not  in  the 
House  at  the  time  I  attributed  to  him  the  speech  in 
question,  and  that  nothing  but  the  unparalleled  impu 
dence  of  the  forgery  should  have —  But  I  need  say  no 
more.  Men  of  bashful  temperament  will  at  once  ap 
preciate  the  motive  for  my  silence. 

I  should  have  mentioned,  that  while  engaged  on  the 
Planet,  I  had,  in  order  to  fill  up  my  leisure  time,  been 
in  the  habit  of  occasionally  advertising  as  a  private 
teacher  of  the  classics,  arithmetic,  etc.,  to  which  adver 
tisements  I  had  hitherto  received  no  satisfactory  re 
plies.  It  chanced,  however,  that  a  few  days  previous 
to  my  dismissal  from  the  gallery,  a  letter  dated  Wai- 
worth  was  brought  to  me,  wherein  the  writer 
stated  that  having  seen  A.  B.'s  advertisement,  and  be 
ing  in  want  of  a  tutor  for  his  son,  he  would  feel  obliged 
if  said  A.  B.  would  "step  up,"  when,  if  terms  and  so 
forth  were  approved,  the  parties  might  "  do  business  " 
together. 

The  quaint,  dry  wording  of  this  missive  gave  me  no 
great  hopes  of  success.  However,  it  did  not  become  me 
to  be  fastidious;  so,  flinging  distrust  to  the  winds,  I 
made  the  best  of  my  way  ^to  the  place  pointed  out  in 
the  address. 


I   00  TO   6BB   SFIHKB. 


CHAPTER 

I  GO  TO  8EE  8PINKS. 

The  writer,  Mr.  Stephen  Spinks,  a  cheesemonger, 
was  at  home  when  I  called,  busily  engaged  with  somo 
customers  behind  the  counter.  On  learning  the  pur 
port  of  my  visit,  he  made  no  more  ado,  but  came  at 
once  tc  the  point  with  me;  while,  at  the  same  time,  in 
order  that  business  might  not  be  neglected,  he  de 
spatched  matters  with  his  customers.  "So,  Mr.  What- 
dye-call-um,"  he  began,  "you're  the  A.  B.,  I  s'pose,  as 
is  to  teach  my  Dick  classics.  Clever  boy,  Dick,  sharp 
as  a  needle;  has  got  'Omer  at  his  fingers'  ends;  do  your 
heart  good  to  hear  him;"  then  turning  to  his  shop-lad, 
"I  say,  Jack,  why  don't  you  serve  that 'ere  gentleman  ? 
he's  been  waiting  these  five  minutes — So,  as  I  was 
saying,  sir,  Dick's  as  sharp  as — A  pound  of  Stilton, 
ma'am  ?  We  never  sells  it  by  the  pound;  very  sorry, 
ma'am;  very  sorry  indeed,  but  'twouldn't  pay — And  so 
Mr.  What>d'ye-call-um,  you  see  my  boy  Dick —  Jack,  I 
say,  Jack,  don't  forget  to  send  them  two  Cheshires  up 
to  Mrs.  Jenkins,  and,  d'ye  hear,  mind  and  take  the  bill 
along  with  'em;  she's  one  as  requires  looking  arter. — 
Excuse  my  bluntness,  Mr.  What-d'ye-call-um,  I' m  plain. 
—Heyday,  Mrs.  Jackson,  what,  you  here  too  !  Well, 
and  how  goes  the  world  with  you  ?  and  how's  your 
good  man,  and  how's  the  little  uns  ?  I'm  sorry  to  say 
my  Polly's  ill  abed  of  the  measles. — Beg  your  pardon, 

Mr. ~,  for  keeping  you  waiting;  but  business  must 

be  minded,  you  know.' 

1  entreated  him  not  to  apologize,  as  my  time  was  his, 
and  then  proceeded  to  seat  myself  leisurely  in  a  remote 
corner  of  the  shop,  while  the  sly  fox  kept  watching 
every  movement  of  my  hands,  with  the  same  keenness 
and  pertinacity  with  which  a  tom-cat  w&t^bes  a  mouse- 


1  GO  TO  SEE  SPINKS.  41 

la  a  few  minutes,  having  got  rid  of  all  his  customers^ 
ae  whipped  off  his  apron,  and  led  the  way  into  a 
back  room,  whither  I  followed.  There  was  no  need  of 
ceremony;  we  plunged,  therefore,  without  a  moment's 
delay,  into  the  thick  of  the  business.  I  proposed  my 
terms;  he  proposed  his;  but  there  being,  even  on  this 
preliminary  point,  a  material  pecuniary  difference  be 
tween  us.  Mr.  Spinks,  moreover,  with  the  wary 
shrewdness  of  the  tradesman,  persisting  in  putting  a 
variety  of  questions  to  me  touching  the  vouchers  I  was 
prepaied  to  furnish  him  with,  as  to  talent,  respecta 
bility,  and  so  forth,  I  at  once  broke  off  the  negotiation, 
and  stalked  from  his  presence  in  the  same  sullen  dig 
nity  in  which  Ajax  turned  from  Ulysses  in  the  shades. 

I  retraced  my  steps  towards  my  lodgings,  still  in  a 
state  of  mind  far  from  enviable.  Absorbed  in  the  re 
flection  that  I  was  the  helpless  victim  of  bashfulness,  I 
seated  myself  moodily  on  one  of  the  buttresses  of  the 
bridge,  casting  ever  and  anon  a  glance  on  the  \vater, 
much  to  the  horror  of  an  old  lady  who  was  taking  the 
air  on  the  opposite  side,  and  no  doubt  mistook  me  fcr 
an  interesting  martyr  to  unrequited  love,  when  sud 
denly  I  heard  my  name  pronounced,  and,  looking  up, 
saw  a  brother  colleague  on  the  Planet  establishment, 
a  smart,  active  fellow>  who  had  always  shown  a  dispo 
sition  to  cultivate  my  acquaintance. 

On  the  present  occasion  he  was  all  sympathy  ;  and 
as  we  strolled  up  and  down  the  bridge  together,  he 
said,  "  You  are  unlucky,  O'Blarney,  but  what  think 
you  of  editing  a  Sunday  newspaper  ?" 

"lam  willing  to  try  my  hand  at  it,  provided  the 
principles  of  the  journal  are  such  a''  I  can  conscien 
tiously  advocate." 

"  On,  it  you  come  to  talk  of  conscience,  I  have  done 
with  you  !  Your  case  is  hopelessP' 

'-' Donovan," said  I,  with  solemnity,  "would  you  de 
prive  me  of  the  only  luxury  I  have  left  ?y 

"  Yes,  for  the  very  reason  that  it  is  a  luxury.  Whefi 
a  gentleman  is  in  difficulties,  what  we  the  first 


42  I  GO  TO  SEE  SPINKS. 

he  retrenches  ?  Why,  his  luxuries,  to  be  sure.  Con 
science,  forsooth  !  A  pretty  wall  you  are  building  to 
knock  your  head  against.  How  can  you  ever  expect 
to  get  on  with  such  a  stumbling-block  in  your  way  ? 
Pray,  get  rid  of  it  as  soon  as  possible,  or  assign  it  over 
to  your  tailor  or  attorney;  they  stand  more  in  need  of 
it  than  you  do." 

ff  I  am  convinced;  let  me  hear  your  proposals." 

"  You  must  know,  then,  that,  in  conjunction  with  a 
pushing  young  book-seller,  I  have  just  purchased  the 
copyright  ot  the  Squib  journal;  but,  as  neither  of  us 
have  sufficient  leisure  to  do  it  justice,  we  are  on  the 
look-out  for  some  one  who  will  devote  his  chief  time 
and  attention  to  it.  Under  these  circumstances  I  offer 
youthe  editorship;  but,  as  there  is  not  a  moment  to  be 
lost  you  must  decide  at  once." 

"  I  agree  to  your  proposals." 

"  And  you  will  throw  overboard  all  romantic  notions 
of — you  understand  me  'f" 

"Nature  will  attimes  prevail;  but  I  will  do  my  best 
to  weed  out  the  delicate  infirmity." 

The  bargain  was  accordingly  struck,  and  within  a 
fortnight  from  the  period  of  my  dismissal  from  the 
Planet  establishment  I  was  installed  editor  of  a  certain 
flashy,  sport  ing  Sunday  journal. 

This  situation  necessarily  brought  me  into  contact 
with  many  of  the  more  puffing  and  mushroom  class  of 
hook-sellers,  by  whose  means  1  was  introduced  to  clivers 
small  literary  characters,  artists,  actors,  etc.,  until 
at  length,  notwithstanding  my  diffidence,  I  began  to 
feel  that  I  was  something  more  than  a  mere  cipher  in 
the  republic  of  letters. 

The  course  of  true  love  never  did  run  smooth;"  and 
the  same  remark  applies  with  equal  force  to  the  course 
of  a  public  journalist.  One  day,  when  I  was  seated  at 
my  desk  reading  a  report  of  a  grand  Tory  dinner  given 
to  Mr.  Canning^at  Liverpool,  the  office-boy  knocked  at 
my  door,  with  information  that  two  gentlemen  were 
below  who  were  desirous  of  speaking  with  the  sditor 


I  GO  TO  SEE  SPINKS.  43 

on  business  of  importance,  which  admitted  of  no  delr.y. 

Before  I  had  time  to  consider  what  answer  should  be 
given  to  this  pressing1  application,  the  strangers  entered 
sans  ceremonie,  and,  walking  straight  up  to  my  desk, 
the  taller  of  the  two,  a  perfect  elephant  of  a  man,  drew 
the  preceding  Sunday's  publication  from  his  pocket, 
and,  pointing  with  a  smile  to  a  particular  paragraph, 
asked  if  I  was  the  author  of  that  brilliant  squib. 

I  am  rarely  thrown  off  my  guard;  but  on  this  occa 
sion  my  vanity  got  the  better  of  my  discretion,  and, 
contrary  to  all  etiquette,  I  at  once  avowed  the  author 
ship,  expressing,  at  the  same  time,  my  gratification  that 
it  had  afforded  them  amusement. 

"So  much  amusement,"  said  the  taller  of  the  two, 
"that  my  friend  here  and  myself  have  come  in  person 
to  offer  our  express  acknowledgments." 

"Yes,  sir,"  added  his  companion,  "the  paragraph  in 
question  is  one  that  cannot  be  too  promptly  acknowl 
edged.  It  is  a  base,  unwarrantable  calumny  on  a  lady 
with  whom  we  have  the  honor  to  be  acquainted." 

"Calumny!"  said  I;  "believe  me,  gentlemen,  you  are 
wholly  in  error.  The  paragraph  contains  nothing  of 
the  sort;  it  is  a  mere  harmless  jeu  cC  esprit,  penned 
hastily  in  a  moment  of  overpowering  sprightliness." 

"And  do  you  presume  to  call  this  sprightliness?" 
interrupted  the  giant,  slowly  reading  over  the  article, 
and  laying  a  malignant  emphasis  on  each  word;  "I  tell 
you,  sir,  it  is  an  infamous  falsehood,  such  as  no  gentle 
man  would  have  dared  to  circulate.  However,  I  did 
not  come  here  to  talk,  but  to  act;"  and  so  saying,  he 
drew  forth  a  horsewhip  from  beneath  his  cloak,  and 
half-strangling  me  with  one  hand,  so  as  to  render  me 
utterly  incapable  of  defence,  laid  it  across  my  shoulders 
with  the  other. 

There  is  a  natural  dislike  in  man  to  have  his  nose 
pulled,  and  the  same  disinclination  extends,  I  have 
generally  observed,  to  a  horsewhipping.  It  will  not 
appear  surprising,  therefore,  that,  partaking  of  the 
common  prejudice  of  humanity,  I  indignantly  resisted 


44  I  GO  TO  SEE  SPINKS. 

this  encroachment  on  tho  liberty  of  the  subject.  "Sir," 
said  I,  "this  ruffian  personality  is  not  to  be  endured, 
and  if  there  be  law  or — " 

"Personality,  my  good  sir!"  said  the  fellow  who  had 
planted  himself  before  the  door,  "we  have  no  wish  to 
be  personal;  our  quarrel  is  with  the  public  editor,  not 
the  private  individual.  I  trust  we  have  too  nice  a  sense 
of  propriety  not  to  discriminate  between  the  two  char 
acters." 

This  was  adding-  insult  to  injury,  and  being  followed 
up  by  a  brisk  application  of  the  other  ruffian's  boot  to 
my  rearward  Adam  as  he  let  go  his  hold,  after  having 
nearly  throttled  me,  wound  me  up  to  such  a  pitch  of 
desperation,  that,  making-  a  sudden  rush  to  the  door,  I 
knocked  down  the  sophistical  scoundrel  who  guarded  it, 
and  was  off  like  lightning  to  Donovan's  lodgings. 

There  is  nothing  like  passion  to  give  wings  to  a  man's 
speed;  it  would  make  a  mercury  of  a  Dutchman. 
Hardly  had  I  lost  sight  of  the  office,  when,  behold!  I 
was  at  Donovan's  door.  My  appearance  struck  him 
with  astonishment.  My  15 ps  quivered,  my  legs  trem 
bled,  my  clothes  exhibited  samples  of  every  crossing 
from  Fleet  street  to  the  Strand. 

"So,"  said  I,  "a  pretty  condition  you  have  reduced  me 
to,  Mr.  Donovan!  But  you  shall  give  me  satisfaction, 
sir,  instant  satisfaction — no  ruffian  shall  horsewhip  me 
with  impunity." 

"Horsewhip?  Nonsense — you  must  be  joking,  surely." 

"Sir  it  is  no  joke  to  me,  whatever  it  may  be  to  you. 
I  tell  you  I  have  been  insulted,  bullied,  and  horsewhip 
ped  into  the  bargain,  and  all  in  consequence  of  that 

confounded  paragraph  about  Lady  A ,  and  her  re* 

sorted  liaison  with — " 


DOJTOVAN'f*  CONSOLATION.  45 


CHAPTER  IX. 

DONOVAN'S  CONSOLATION. 

"Sir  Bore  Brocas.  I  remember  it  perfectly;  and  so> 
for  this  harmless  squib,  you  have  actually,  you  say, 
been  horsewhipped?  Upon  my  word,  O'Blarney,  this 
is  a  monstrous  lucky  affair.  It  will  give  quite  a  lift  to 
the  paper.  And  then  the  damages!' 

"Indeed!"  said  I,  with  a  most  bitter  smile;  "but  you 
forget  my  shoulders,  Mr.  Donovan." 

"Don't  mention  it;  'tis  a  mere  trifle,  not  worth  think 
ing-  about." 

"Trifle,  sir!" 

"To  besurs;  what  is  a  horsewhipping  compared  with 
the  eclat  it  will  give  our  paper?  'Tis  a  mere  nothing 
when  one's  used  to  it.  But,"  continued  Donov;in,  see 
ing,  that  so  far  from  being-  convinced,  I  began  to  man 
ifest  increased  passion.  "  Be  resigned,  O'Blarney,  after 
all,  a  horsewhipping  is  nothing  more  than  &  dispute 
taking  a  practical  turn.  Besides,  assaults  usually  carry 
damages;  ten  to  one  it  conjures  a  cool  five  hundred  out 
of  Sir  Bore's  pocket  into  yours.  I  look  on  this  affair 
as  quite  a  god-send,  and  I  beg  leave  to  offer  you  my  sin- 
cerest  congratulations.  Of  course,  you'll  prosecute. 
Consider,  your  'honor,'  is  at  stake." 

"My  honor,  Mr.  Donovan?  Why,  sir,  my  very  seat  of 
of  honor  is  at  stake!  Would  you  believe  it,  the  ruffian — 

"You  need  not  go  on,  I  can  guess  what  is  to  come; 
there  are  no  half-measures  in  affairs  of  this  sort;  so  the 
'ruffian'  having  done  his  business  in  a  workman-like 
style,  it  is  now  your  turn  to  do  yours.  Let  me  see.  In 
the  first  place,  you  must  enter  an  action  of  assault  and 
battery  against  Sir  Bore  Brocas;  secondly — " 


4(5  DONOVAN'S  CONSOLATION. 

At  this  stage  of  the  conversation,  a  lad  entered  the 
room  with  a  most  suspicious,  lawyer-like  note,  which 
he  said  had  been  left  for  the  proprietor  and  editor  of 
the  /Sf/m'b  journal. 

Donovan  opened  the  note,  but  before  he  had  perused 
three  lines  his  countenance  visibly  lengthened. 

I  watched  the  change,  and,  delighted  with  an  oppor 
tunity  of  repaying  banter  with  banter — for  I  had  been 
more  annoyed  by  his  irony  than  I  chose  to  confess — 
said,  "  Heyday  !  what's  the  matter  now?  Is  there  a 
second  horsewhipping  in  the  wind  V" 

"  Don't  talk  so  like  a  fool,"  replied  Donovan  sulkily; 
"this  is  no  time  for  joking." 

"  So  I  thought  when  you  were  favoring  me  just  now 
with  your  facetious  essay." 

"  O'Blarney,  you're  enough  to  drive  one  mad  !  Here 
is  a  notice  of  action  for  a  libel  contained  in  our  paper 
of  Sunday  fortnight.  However,  it's  your  business,  not 
mine.  It  is  monstrous  that  the  innocent  should  suffer 
for  the  guilty." 

"  Capital !  So  you  are  to  monopolize  all  the  profits 
of  the  paper,  and  I  the  horsewhippiugs  and  libels  !" 

"Why,  are  not  you  the  editor  ?" 

"  And  you  the  proprietor  r" 

"Granted;  but  when  I  engaged  you,  it  was  far  from 
my  intention  to  stand  godfather  to  your  libels.  Ko, 
no,  sir,  you  must  come  forward  and  acknowledge  your 
own  paternity.  I  will  have  no  order  of  affiliation  made 
on  me.  How,  in  the  name  of  common-sense,  could  yon 
be  fool  enough  to  meddle  with  the  private  character 
of  a  cabinet  minister  ?" 

"And  how  could  you  be  fool  enough  to  allow  the 
paragraph  to  be  inserted  ?" 

"Well,  well,  this  recrimination  is  childish;  what's 
done  cant  be  undone;  therefore  our  mutual  safety  is 
what  we  must  now  look  to.  I  despise  that  sort  of  chiv 
alrous  spirit  which  would  induce  one  man  to  go  to  jail 
for  another;  at  the  same  time,  mark  me,  I  would  not 
wish  to  do  anything  unjust  or — " 


DONOVAN'S   CONSOLATION.  4? 

*' Ahem  !    I  clearly  understand  you>  sir." 

After  some  further  conversation  of  this  nature,  which 
terminated,  as  might  have  been  anticipated,  in  a  quarrel 
— for  I  could  not  but  see  that  Donovan  meditated 
throwing-  all  the  onus  of  the  libel  on  my  already  suf 
ficiently"  afflicted  shoulders — I  left  him  with  the  fixed 
but  secret  determination  of  resigning  my  editorial  func 
tions,  and  never  again  venturing  my  person  near  the  office. 

This  resolution  was  no  sooner  formed  than  executed. 
I  instantly  removed  from  my  old  lodgings,  kept  my  new 
place  of  abode  a  more  than  Eleusinian  mystery,  and 
never  once,  for  a  whole  fortnight,  ventured  out,  except 
like  a  bat  or  a  burglar,  by  night. 

Meantime,  the  myrmidons  of  the  law  were  not  inac 
tive,  and  within  a  very  brief  period  from  my  resigna 
tion  of  the  editorship  the  morning  papers  made  me  ac 
quainted  with  the  fact  that  Patrick  Donovan,  having 
been  found  guilty  of  a  libel  on  a  distinguished  member 
of  his  Majesty's  Government,  was  to  be  brought  up  the 
ensuing  term  for  judgment. 

About  the  same  time,  through  the  influence  of  a  re 
spectable  news-aofent,  who  alone  was  in  my  confidence, 
the  editorship  of  a  country  journal,  entitled  the  Hum 
bug  Flying  Reporter,  was  offered  me,  for  which  town  I 
forthwith  took  my  departure,  with  the  avowed  inten 
tion  of  henceforth  cutting  all  connection  with  a  metrop 
olis  where  my  industry  and  abilities  had  met  with  so 
unworthy  a  recompense. 

It  was  on  a  chilly,  foggy  April  evening  that  I  took 
my  seat  inside  the  Humbug  Mercury.  My  prospects 
were  gloomy,  my  spirits  still  more  so.  Gradually, 
however,  this  despondency  wore  away,  and  gave  place 
to  livelier  sensations.  A  night's  journey  in  a  stage 
coach  is  an  excellent  recipe  for  the  blues.  A  thousand 
little  incidents  are  perpetually  at  work  to  call  off  the 
attention  from  self.  There  is  the  casual  and  often  diver- 
tingly  characteristic  chit-chat;  the  whimsical  settling- 
down  of  the  more  practiced  insiders  into  a  snug 
nook  for  a  nap;  the  cheering  sound  of  the  guard's  hern. 


48  DONOVAN'S  CONSOLATION. 

as  the  horses  clatter  along  the  stones  of  some  provirv 
cial  town;  the  snatch  of  supper  at  the  appointed  inn, 
with  tho  bright  fireside  and  the  blazing  candles;  then, 
again,  the  abrupt  departure,  with  the  "Good-night" 
of  my  landlord,  and  the"  All  right  "of the  regenerated 
coachman — these,  and  divers  other  minutia?,  though 
trifling  enough,  you  will  say,  have  at  least  a  tendency 
to  divert  the  mind,  and  so  far  re-assured  me,  that  by 
the  time  I  reached  Humbug,  I  had  wholly  regained  my 
serenity,  notwithstanding,  I  had  for  fourteen  hours 
been  wedged  fas\,  between  two  elderly  ladies,  one  of 
whom  took  Scotch  snuff,  and  the  other  talked  inces 
santly  of  her  son  Tom. 

Within  a  walking  distance  of  the  borough  of  Hum 
bug  dwelt  Miles  Snodgrass,  Esq.,  who  was  rich,  conse 
quently  respectable,  and  possessed  of  considerable  local 
influence.  As  the  artificer  of  his  own  fortune,  Mr. 
Snodgrass  held  himself  in  no  slight  estimation.  His 
father  had  for  years  been  the  town-clerk;  but  dying 
suddenly  when  Miles  was  yet  a  boy,  left  him  heir  to 
little  but  his  virtues  and  his  wardrobe.  The  lad,  how- 
ever,  being  tractable,  bustling,  and  gifted  with  what 
the  experienced  in  such  matters  call  "  an  eye  to  busi 
ness,"  was  taken  notice  of  by  the  parochial  authorities 
who  contrived  to  get  him  bound  apprentice  to  an  old 
friend  of  his  father,  a  wealthy  linen-draper  of  Humbug, 
in  which  capacity  he  rendered  himself  so  generally 
useful,  that  at  the  expiration  of  his  servitude  his  mas 
ter,  finding  he  could  not  do  without  him,  took  the 
ycung  man  into  partnership,  and,  in  process  of  time,  as 
ne  himself  waxed  old  and  indolent,  invested  him  with 
the  entire  superintendence  of  the  concern. 

Years  rolled  on,  and  each  successive  one  found  Miles 
Snodgrass  rising  into  gradual  importance  in  the  neigh 
borhood.  By  the  death  of  his  patron  he  became  sole 
proprietor  of  the  concern,  which  enabled  him  to  enlarge 
the  sphere  of  his  ambition,  and  espouse  the  wealthy 
daughter  of  a  retired  butcher. 

But  his  good  luck  did  not  stop  here.     Some  men  are 


DONOVAN'S  CON8OLAHOK.  49 

born  'with  a  silver  spoon  in  their  mouths,  and  Miles 
Snodgrass  was  one  of  these  lucky  few.  A  successful 
•speculation  in  cottons  rendered  him,  shortly  after  his 
carriage,  so  wholly  independent  of  trade  as  to  justify 
him  in  withdrawing  his  name  from  the  concern,  and  be 
coming  a  "  silent  partner." 

It  is  from  this  period  that  his  standing  in  society  and 
his  election  as  an  alderman  may  be  dated.  At  the  ur 
gent  intercession  of  his  eldest  daughter,  who  was  now 
fast  advancing  to  womanhood,  he  exchanged  his  snug 
private  house  in  the  main  street  for  a  spacious  man 
sion.  Suddenly  he  discovered  that  his  family  was  of 
ancient  extraction;  and  once,  in  a  moment  of  enthu 
siasm  was  heard  to  talk  of  his  ancestors. 

Not  longafter  my  meeting  the  gentleman,  I  wc*s  invit 
ed  by  him  to  his  house  to  a  party.  I  accepted  the  invita 
tion.  The  hall-clock  was  just  on  the  stroke  of  six  as  I 
entered  Mr.  Snodgrass'  drawing~room,where  I  found  all 
the  family  present,  except  the  eldest  and  youngest  sons, 
the  former  of  whom  was  putting  the  finishing  stroke  to 
his  education  at  Cambridge.  His  mother  spoke  in  rap 
tures  of  this  young  man's  precocity,  in  which  she  was 
joined  by  Miss  Anna  Maria  Snodgrass,  a  spinster  ad 
dicted  to  Sunday-schools  and  the  patronage  of  all  the 
rising  geniuses  of  the  district;  and  whose  face,  broad  at 
the  forehead  and  peaked  at  the  chin,  like  a  kite — ar.d 
which,  by  the  by,  she  rarely  showed  but  in  profile — 
gave  undeniable  token  that  she  was  of  an  intellectual 
turn  of  mind. 

The  youngest  daughter,  Isabel,  was  in  every  respect 
the  reverse  of  her  sister.  The  one  was  grave  and  predis 
posed  to  sanctity;  the  other,  all  smiles  and  ecstacy. 
The  one  was  a  blue,  the  other  a  torn-boy.  The  one 
seemed  astonished  at  nothing;  the  other  at  every 
thing.  The  one  was  tall,  lean,  and  straight  from 
bead  to  foot  like  a  bed-post;  the  other,  short, 
fat,  and  remarkable  for  a  fine  expanse  of  foot,  which, 
spreading  out  semi-circularly,  like  a  lady's  fan,  at  the 
toes,  lent  peculiar  weight  and  safety  to  her  tread. 


50  DONOVAN'S  CONSOLATION. 

As  fci  Mrs.  Snodgrass,  she  was  a  plump,  buxom 
rei ic  of  the  old  school — a  cross  between  the  mistress 
and  the  housekeeper.  She  dressed  invariably  in  the 
brightest  colors,  wore  pockets,  and  persisted  in  carrying 
about  with  her  a  huge  bunch  of  keys.  In  temper,  she 
was  the  perfection  of  homely,  hearty  good-humor,  and 
was  fond  of  seasoning  her  talk  with  parentheses,  and 
indulging  in  allusions  to  her  brother,  a  barrister  in  some 
practice  at  the  Chancery-bar. 

During  dinner,  a  more  than  ordinary  taciturnity  pre 
vailed.  The  alderman,  in  particular,  who  hekl  all  con 
versation  during  meals  as  an  act  of  folly,  if  not  pro- 
fanencss,  said  little  or  nothing*  The  very  utmost  li 
cense  of  speech  he  allowed  himself,  even  on  that  sub 
ject  which  lay  next  his  heart,  tbe  election,  was  a 
stray  remark  or  two,  thrown  off  between  the  courses. 
"Why,  yes,"  he  would  say  on  such  occasions,  in  reply 
to  observations  previously  made  by  one  or  other  cf  the 
party,  "your  opinion  cf  Gilcbrist  is  very  just.  Maria— 
Izzy,  are  those  artichokes  near  yen  ?  And  c.c  for  the 
corporation,  O'Blarney,  1  agree  with  you  that  v/ith  a 
little  dexterous  management  we  may  contrive  to  win 
them  over. — Mrs.  S.»  that  haunch  looks  so  tempting 
that  I  really  think  I  must  venture  again. — Besides,  Sly 
boots  is  almost  the  only  man  among  them  all  whose 
principles  may  be  said  to  be  fixed. — Maria,  I'll  thank 
you  fora  wing  of  one  of  those  partridges;  don't  trouble 
yourself,  O'Blarney,  Maria  is  a  capital  carver." 

I  did  trouble  myself,  however,  and  with  my  usual 
luck;  for  in  attempting  to  anatomize  the  bird,  I  hap 
pened — bashful  men  are  always  awkward — to  baptize 
Miss  Snodgrass  with  the  gravy,  and  despatched  a  leg 
over  the  way  to  her  sister.  This  catastrophe  elicited  a 
loud  laugh  from  the  frolicsome  girl,  for  which  her 
mother  thought  fit  to  apologize.  "  "She  is  so  full  of 
life,  Mr.  O'Blarney — (Izzy,  my  dear,  you've  got  no  veg 
etables;  you  know  I  dislike  your  eating  meat  without 
them)— quite  the  chad  of  nature;  indeed,  her  spirit* 
ire  too  much  for  her  strength." 


DONOVAN'S  CONSOLATION.  51 

"I  was  not  laughing  at  Mr.  O'Blarney.  mamma," 
replied  Isabel,  and  was  proceeding  still  further  to  vindi 
cate  her  innocence,  when  her  father  bluntly  checked 
her  by  saying,  "Hold  your  tongue,  child,  and  attend  to 
your  business;"  shortly  after  which,  the  cloth  being 
withdrawn,  he  took  off  his  spectacles,  placed  a  dry  crust 
beside  him,  which  remained  ove"  from  the  cheese,  and 
looked  about  him  with  the  benignant  air  of  one  who 
has  just  fulfilled  a  sacred  duty.  There  is  nothing  like 
a  good  dinner  to  bring  out  the  humanities. 

"John,"  said  Mrs.  Snodgrass,  as  the  footman  was  ar 
ranging  the  dessert,  "you  have  forgotten  to  place  a 
chair  for  Master  Samuel." 

The  mar*  hastened  to  repair  his  omission,  after  which 
the  bell  was  rung  twice,  and.  almost  instantly  followed 
by  the  entrance  of  a  mischievous-looking  urchin,  about 
six  years  old,  with  his  hair  combed  straight  over  his 
forehead,  and  his  face  shining  with  soap  and  water. 

This  imp  had  no  sooner  taken  his  seat  than  he  bc'gnn 
helping  himself  to  everything  within  reach  of  his 
taJons.  I  was  convinced  by  this  that  he  was  a  spoiled 
child;  soj,  coaxing  him  towards  me  with  the  offer  of  an 
orange,  I  planted  him  on  my  knee,  and,  patting  him  on 
the  head,  said,  "Well,  my  fine  little  fellow,  and  what's 
your  name  Y" 

"Samuel  Charlton,"  replied  the  boy,  as  demurely  as 
if  he  were  answering  the  first  question  in  the  cate 
chism. 

"I  have  named  him  Charlton,"  observed  his  father 
with  emphasis,  "after  a  gentleman  of  that  name,  to 
whom  I  dedicated  the  printed  copy  of  a  speech  I  made 
during  my  mayoralty." 

"I  see  you're  fond  of  children,"  said  the  gratified 
mother;  "Sam  takes  to  you  quite  naturally.  Would 
you  believe  it,  Mr.  O'Blarney  ?" 

"O'Blarney !"  said  the  urchin,  with  a  grin,  "what  a 
funny  name !" 

"Sweet  simplicity  !"  resumed  the  good  lady;  "would 
you  believe  it,  sir — Maria,  do  pray  take  that  knife  out 


,52  SAM'S  PECULIARITIES. 

of  Izzy's  hands — young  as  lie  is,  he  has  already  ^rot  the 
multiplication  table  by  heart !    Sammy,  d«ar,  hold  up 
your  head,  and  tell  the  gentleman  how  much  twice  nine 
makes." 
"Tea  1"  screamed  the  lad. 


CHAPTER  X. 
SAM'S  PECULIARITIES. 

"Oh,  fy !  guess  again/' 

"Eleven  T 

"No." 

"Twelve !" 

"No." 

"  Eighteen  ?' 

"Right,  Sam,1'  said  his  father;  "that  lad,  1m  think 
ing  Mr.  O'Blarney,  will  make  a  figure  in  the  world/' 

I  was  just  about  to  reply,  when  a  sudden  acute 
twinge  caused  me  involuntarily  to  cry  out,  "Oh,  mur 
der  !"  and,  on  directing  my  attention  to  the  part  af 
fected,  I  caught  the  promising  Samuel  busily  engaged 
in  driving  his  father's  toothpick  into  my  knee. 

"Dear  me'  what's  the  matter  ?"  inquired  Mrs.  Snod- 
grass,  with  an  air  of  much  concern. 

"A  mere  trifle,"  I  replied,  striving  hard  to  look  good- 
natured;  "the  sprightly  little  fellow  has  been  boring  a 
hole  in  my  knee-pan  that's  all;  but  children,  boys 
especially,  are  so  engaging  at  his  age!  It's  quite 
impossible  to  be  angry  with  them. 

I  thought  Isabel  would  have  gone  into  fits  at  this 
explanation,  which  so  tickled  her  brother,  who  even  at 
that  early  age  was  impressed  with  a  notion  that  he 
was  a  wag,  that  he  played  off  a  variety  of  other  tricks, 
until  at  length,  his  pranks  became  so  intolerable  that 
his  mother,  in  self-defence,  was  compelled  to  order  him 
np-stairs  to  bed. 

But  here  ensued  a  scene  that  baffles  all  description. 


SAM'S    PECULIARITIES.  53 

Notwithstanding  his  mother's  coaxings,  the  brat 
refused  to  stir;  and,  while  the  nurse  was  preparing  to 
carry  him  up-stairs,  freed  himself  by  a  desperate 
affort  from  her  grasp,  clung  to  the  green  baize  for  pro 
tection,  pulled  it  half  off  the  table,  and  brought  plates, 
glasses,  and  decanters  to  the  ground. 

In  an  instant  all  was  confusion.  The  alderman 
started  up  to  save  as  much  as  he  could  from  the  wreck; 
but  happening  to  make  a  false  step  was  thrown  for 
ward  on  Mrs.  Snodgrass,  who,  upset  by  the  shock  of 
this  novel  impetus,  plunged  backward  with  a  scream; 
while,  to  make  matters  worse,  a  tom-cat  on  which  her 
husband  had  trodden,  roused  from  a  nap  on  the  hearth 
rug,  dug  his  claws  into  his  calf;  so  that,  with  the  yell- 
ings  of  the  cat,  the  screaming  of  Mrs.  Snodgrass,  and 
the  astonishment,  mixed  with  laughter,  of  the  rest  of 
the  group,  the  scene  was  one  of  the  richest  farce  I  ever 
remember. 

In  about  half  an  hour,  tranquillity  was  restored,  and 
the  alderman,  having  appeased  his  wrath  by  a  bumper 
of  claret,  said,  "  You'll  excuse  what  I  am  going  to  say, 
Mr.  O'Blarney —  curse  the  cat,  how  she  has  scratched  my 
leg! — but  the  fact  is  sir,  I  always  make  a  point  of  taking 
a  nap  after  dinner;  no  matter  who  may  be  here,  I 
never  give  up  my  nap;  but  help  j^ourself,  don't  mind 
me.  Mrs.  S-.  you'll  take  care  of  Mr.  O'Blarney;"  and 
so  saying,  without  further  ceremony,  the  alderman 
threw  himself  back  in  his  arm-chair,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  was  fast  asleep. 

"Have  you  read  'Only  a  Woman's  Heart' — the  new 
novel?"  asked  Miss  Snodgrass,  as  she  beheld  her  father's 
chin  give  its  first  decided  bob  against  his  chest. 

"I  cannot  say  I  have;  my  time  of  late  has  been  too 
much  occupied  for  such  reading." 

"That's  just  my  case,  Mr.  O'Blarney,"  observed  Mrs. 
Snodgrass. 

''  Mamma,  how  can  you  say  so?  you  know  it  is  not  a 
month  since  you  finished  the  tale  !" 

"  Oh!  true,  love,  I  remember,  I  read  it  at  the  recom- 


54  SAM'S  PECULIARITIES. 

mendation  of  my  brother;  and,  if  I  recollect  rightly 
— Izzy,  don't  sit  with  your  legs  crossed — there  was 
something  in  it  about  a  grand  dinner,  which  reminded 
me,  as  I  mentioned  to  you  at  the  time,  of  your  father's 
mayor's  feast." 

"So  Lord  George  Gilchrist  has  really  arrived  in  the 
neighborhood?"  interrupted  Miss  Snodgrass  testily. 
"Yes,"  I  replied;  "are  you  acquainted  with  him:"' 

"Not  at  all.  I  have  seen  him  once  or  twice;  he  is 
quite  a  young  man,  apparently  not  more  than  thirty." 

"Do  you  call  that  young,  Maria?"  inquired  Isabel; 
"I  call  it  being  quite  old." 

"Old!"  said  Miss  Snodgrass;  "you  don't  know  what 
you  are  talking  about,  child." 

"  His  lordship  must  have  felt  it  a  great  sacrifice  to 
quit  town  at  this  gay  season,"  I  observed;  "and  for 
such  a  troublesome  business  as  an  election,  too.  Of 
course,  you  know  what  a  London  spring  is,  Miss  Snod 
grass?" 

"  I  am  ashamed  to  say  I  never  was  in  London  but 
on  one  occasion,  and  then  for  a  very  short  time. 

For  the  last  five  years,  papa  has  talked  regularly  ot 
indulging  us  with  a  trip  there;  but  one  thing  or  other 
always  interferes  to  prevent  it.  In  the  first  place,  ue 
hates  being  put  out  of  his  way;  then  mamma  has  her 
objections — " 

"I   have  objections,  certainly,  Maria.     To  say  noth 
ing  of  the  trouble  of  packing  up,  and  the  chance  of 
damp  sheets  in  one's  lodgings,  the  expense  of  a  season 
in  London  is,  I  am  told,  beyond  what  could  be  con 
ceived." 

"  Expense,  my  dear  madam!"  I  replied,  in  no  little 
alarm;  "  surely  you  must  be  under  a  misapprehension!" 
I  then  proceeded  to  expatiate  on  the  advantages  of  an 
occasional  residence  in  the  metropolis;  to  Miss  Snod 
grass  I  talked  of  the  agreeable  tone  of  its  literary 
society;  while  I  whetted  her  sister's  curiosity  by  dwell 
ing  on  its  various  public  exhibitions,  balls,  theaters, 
dances,  and  so  forth. 


SAM'S  PECULIARITIES.  55 

The  bait  took  as  I  desired.  "O  mamma!"  said 
Isabel,  jumping  up,  and  clapping  her  hands  in  ecstacy, 
"how  delightful!  Do,  pray,  let  us  leave  this  horrid 
dull  place,  I  shall  never  be  happy  till  I  go  to  London. 
Oh,  I  do  so  want  to  see  all  the  sights!  And  the  danc 
ing,  too!  I'm  so  fond  of  dancing,  you  can't  think!  When 
shall  we  go,  ma?" 

Before  her  mother  could  reply,  the  alderman  woke 
up  from  his  nap,  which  was  the  signal  for  the  ladies' 
retiring  into  the  drawing-room.  When  the  door 
had  closed  on  them,  he  said,  putting  on  a  look  of 
official  dignity,"!  never  talk  of  business  before  women; 
but  now  they  are  gone,  we  can  discuss  matters  at  our 
ease."  He  then  inquired  minutely  into  all  the  partic 
ulars  of  my  reception  by  an  election  committee,  which 
he  had  sent  me  to  interview;  complimented  me  on  my 
address  to  the  electors,  and  vowed  that,  if  he  expended 
his  last  cent,  he  would  let  people  see  he  was  not  quite 
the  fool  they  took  him  for. 

"Of  course,  I  was  all  admiration  of  such  conduct 
"  But,"  I  added,  in  my  most  persuasive  manner,  "  Mr. 
Snodgrass,  must  be  aware  that  in  contests  of  tins  nature 
ready  money  is  the  main  desideratum',  if,  therefore, 
you  will  place  at  my  disposal  certain  sums  which  are 
requisite  for  the  service  of  the  committee,  who  have 
done  me  the  honor  to  place  themselves  under  my  guid 
ance,  I  will  stake  all  my  Irish  estates  on  the  chances 
of  your  success?" 

This  direct  allusion  to  money-matters  put  the  old 
felloAv  on  his  mettle.  In  an  instant  he  was  all  caution. 

"Ahem!  we'll  talk  of  this  to-morrow.    Help  yourself." 

"But,  my  dear  sir,  consider  that  in  these  cases 
promptitude  is  the  life  and  soul  of  business." 

"  True,  very  true,  but  still— 

"I  know  what  you  would  say;  but  remember  sir,  the 
old  adage,  '  Nothing  venture,  nothing  gain.'  An  elec 
tion — I  will  not  deny  the  fact — is  like  everything  else, 
a  lottery;  but,  in  this  particular  instance,  it  is  a  lottery 
iii  which  a  prize  is  all  but  certain.  And  what  a  prize! 


56  SAM'S  PECULIARITIES. 

To  you,  sir,  whose  eloquence  is  so  well  known,  it  must 
be  beyond  all  price.  I  .almost  fancy  I  see  you  rising,  for 
the  first  time,  in  the  House.  Republicans  are  in  de 
spair — the  Democrats  in  ecstacies;  while  the  news 
papers  next  morning,  in  noticing  your  triumphant  debut, 
says,  'Loud  cheers  followed  the  conclusion  of  the  speech.' " 

"  Enough,  enough,"  said  the  alderman,  in  that  pecu 
liar  manner  which  betrays  marked  satisfaction,  while  it 
would  fain  affect  indifference;  "  nothing,  as  you  say,  is 
to  be  done  without  ready  money,"  and  he  acceded  to 
my  demand;  but  then,  as  if  glad  to  get  rid  of  an  un 
gracious  topic,  he  rose  from  his  seat,  and  led  the  way  to 
the  drawing-room. 

During  tea-time  I  took  my  station  beside  Miss  Snod- 
grass,  who  had  a  thousand  gossiping  nothings  to  say 
about  Lord  George  and  the  election,  while  her  father 
occupied  himself  by  poring  over  the  contents  of  the 
newspaper. 

When  the  equipage  was  cleared  away,  my  fair  neigh 
bor  went  into  the  drawing-room,  and  returned 
almost  immediately  after  with — a  splendidly  bound 
album,  ^Jiich  she  placed  in  my  hands,  adding,  "  I  am 
sure  you  are  fond  of  elegant  literature  by  your  conversa 
tion,  though  perhaps  you  are  too  modest  to  gay  so." — it 
is  astonishing  what  keen  insight  women  have  into 
character — "remember,  therefore,  that  I  shall  depend 
on  you  for  a  contribution;  nay,  no  excuse,  you  are  com 
promised." 

"Compromised!"  said  her  father,  throwing  aside  his 
paper,  "  Who  says  I  am  compromised?"  then,  instantly 
recovering  himself,  he  added,  in  a  gayer  tone,  "Pooh! 
pooh!  my  brain  is  always  running  upon  politics." 

"  The  choice  of  subject,"  continued  Miss  Snodgrass, 
taking  no  notice  of  this  interruption,  "  I  leave  to  your 
self,  though  I  had  rather  it  should  be  something  in  verse, 
•for  of  all  things,  poetry  is — " 

"  A  pack  of  rubbish,"  said  the  alderman;  "  if  I  had 
my  will,  I'd  clap  every  poet  in  the  stocks;  I  never  had 
dealings  with  any  but  one,  and  he — " 


ELECTION   UNCERTAINTIES.  57 

**  I  know  of  whom  you  are  thinking,  papa — poor 
young  Atkinson,  your  clerk,  whom  you  dismissed  last 
year  for  setting  fire  to  his  bed-curtains.  But  you 
should  make  allowances  for  the  eccentricities  of 
genius." 

"  Genius,  fcrsooth!  why  the  fellow  could  not  cast  up 
a  sum  in  addition  But  enough  of  him.  O'Blarney,  do 
you  play  whist?" 

«  No." 

"  Sorry  for  that;  for  Mrs.  S.  and  myself  love  a  quiet 
rubber,  now  and  then.  Backgammon ?" 

«No." 

"  Well,  then,  suppose  you  sing  us  a  song  or  two, 
Maria.  Mr.  O'Blarney,  I  dare  say,  is  fond  of  music." 

To  be  sure  I  was:  indeed  it  was  quite  a  passion  with 
me — a  confession  which  raised  me  still  higher  in  the 
good  graces  of  the  young  lady. 

But  let  no  man  vaunt  his  love  of  music.  It  is  a 
dangerous  boast,  and  never  fails  to  carry  its  own  pun 
ishment  along  with  it.  Miss  Snodgrass  chirped  one, 
two,  three  Italian  airs;  then  came  a  duet  with  Isabel; 
then  a  French  canzonet;  and  lastly,  the  well  known 
"In  the  Gloaming"  sung  with  a  twist  of  the  mouth 
peculiarly  provocative  of  passion. 

But,  as  all  matters  must  have  an  end,  a  termination 
was  at  length  put  even  to  Miss  Snodgrass'  musical  dis 
play;  and  at  a  late  hour  I  quitted  the  house;  but  not 
before  the  alderman  had  insisted  on  my  making  his 
house  my  home,  whenerer  I  found  it  convenient. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

ELECTION  UNCERTAINTIES. 

To  the  consternation  of  the  alderman,  the  election 
terminated  in  favor  of  his  opponent  by  a  meagre  ma 
jority  of — twelvel  This  result  was  chiefly  owing  to 


58  ELECTION  UNCERTAINTIES. 

their  maneuvers.  "With  admirable  tact  they  kept  their 
opinions  to  themselves  till  the  proper  season  came  for 
putting  them  forth,  looked  on  the  apostacy  of  one  of 
their  fraternity  as  a  sort  of  reflection  on  the  whole  body. 
Even  Alderman  Slyboots — "unkindest  cut  of  all!" — was 
found  among  the  number  of  Mr.  Snodgrass'  opponents. 

This  defeat  was  a  grievous  blow  to  my  interests.  It 
at  once  demolished  all  the  fine  castles  which,  for  weeks 
past,  I  had  been  erecting  in  the  air;  for,  by  the  aid  of 
the  alderman's  influence,  I  had  hoped,  not  only  to 
establish  myself  among  the  elite  of  Humbug,  but  per- 
adventure  even  to  become  nearly  connecter!  with  his 
family, 

But  if  my  disappointment  was  great,  far  greater  was 
the  alderman's.  On  him  the  disastrous  tidings  burst 
like  a  thunder-clap. 

The  spell  of  my  influence  was  now  broken;  and  just 
in  proportion  as  1  had  risen,  so  did  I  fall  in  the  alder 
man's  estimation.  For  one  whole  week  he  confined 
himself  to  retirement  admitting  no  one  to  his  presence 
but  an  attorney,  whom  he  engaged  to  prosecute  minute 
inquiries  into  the  way  in  which  I  had  disposed  of  cer 
tain  electioneering  sums  intrusted  to  my  superintend 
ence;  his  suspicions  being  roused  by  the  election  hav 
ing  been  lost  by  the  very  same  number  of  votes  which 
he  had  supplied  me  with  funds  to  purchase! 

The  result  of  these  inquiries  was,  I  soon  found  out, 
unsatisfactory;  for  when  I  ventured,  a  few  days  after 
the  election,  to  send  in  my  card,  I  was  informed  that 
my  presence  was  no  longer  desirable. 

A  man  of  more  brass  than  I  can  possibly  pretend  to, 
would  have  insisted  at  once  on  being  confronted  with 
the  alderman  and  his  attorney;  but  my  disastrous  diffi 
dence  in  this,  as  in  every  other  instance,  got  the  better 
of  me.  I  imagined,  too,  that  by  remaining  quiet  for  a 
time,  the  storm  would  blow  over,  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  be 
brought  to  regard  my  conduct  with  a  more  unprejudiced 
eye,  especially  as  I  had  every  reason  to  believe  I  should 
find  a  warm  advocate  in  his  eldest  daughter;  so  lallowed 


ELECTION  UNCERTAINTIES.  5& 

the  golden  moment  to  escape,  and  the  sand  in  the 
hour-glass  to  run  out,  till  it  became  almost  too  late  to 
retrieve  myself. 

At  length,  as  I  was  turning  an  angle  of  the  road  that 
led  sharp  round  to  the  gates,  I  suddenly  encountered 
Mrs.  Snodgrass  on  her  way  on  foot  to  Humbug.  The 
good  lady  recognized  me  in  an  instant. 

''Well,"  she  exclaimed,  "I  always  said  everything 
would  be  cleared  up;  though,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Mr% 
O'Blarney,  the  alderman  has  been  in  a  sad  way  about 
you.  Some  one  has  put  it  into  his  head  that  you've 
been  making  a  cat's-paw  of  him,  though,  as  I  told  him 
•at  the  time,  'My  clear  Mr.  S.,'  said  I,  'what  matters  it 
what  people  say?  they  will  talk,  you  know;  so  let 'em, 
and  when  they're  tired  they'll  hold  their  tongues.'  Those 
were  the  very  words  I  used,  Mr.  O'Blarney;  for  I  knew 
you  must  have  a  good  heart  by  your  taking  so  much 
notice  of  Sam." 

"Ah,  my  Mttle  playfellow  Sammy!"  said  I,  with  affec 
tionate  vivacity,  "how  is  the  dear  little  fellow:*  It  may 
be  a  weakness,  Mrs.  Snodgrass,  but  I  never  see  children 
without  feeling  my  heart  warm  towards  them,  as  if  they 
were  my  own.  And  your  fair  daughters — are  they, 
too,  in  good  health?" 

The  old  lady  shook  her  head.  "Tory  odd,  Mr.  O  Elar 
ney,  but  Maria  takes  the  loss  of  the  election  mere  to 
heart  than  even  Mr.  S.I  I  can't  conceive  what's  come 
to  the  girl.  She  says  nothing  except  that  she  is  re 
signed  to  the  visitation,  and  that  if  it  be  the  will  of  God 
she  must  submit.  Sad  business!  She's  not  half  the 
girl  she  was." 

"I'm  glad  to  sec  that  you,  at  least,  bear  up  against 
these  afflictions,  Mrs<  Snodgrass." 

"Who,  I?  Oh,  I've  lots  of  trouble  too,only  I  haven't 
time  to  be  down-hearted.  Who  would  look  after  the 
servants,  if  I  were  to  lay  up?  But  I  must  not  stay 
gossiping;  so  good-bye,  Mr.  O'Blarney.  I  wish  you 
success  with  Mr.  S. ;  but,  pray,  don't  take  him  up  too 
short,  if  he  should  be  a  little  hot  at  first. 


60  ELECTION  UNCERTAINTIES. 

Far  different  was  my  interview  with  the  alderman 
Six  men  on  whose  faces  tribulation  was  written  at  full- 
length,  and  in  the  clearest  type,  were  just  quitting  the 
house  as  I  reached  the  hall-door — a  circumstance  which 
convinced  me  that  I  should  have  need  of  all  my  temper 
and  address. 

Xo  sooner  had  I  announced  my  name  than  I  heard 
the  alderman's  surly  voice  in  the  passage,  desiring  the 
footman  to  "send  in  that  fellow." 

On  entering  the  study,  Mr.  Snodgrass,  who  was  seated 
at  the  table,  neither  looked  up  nor  rose  to  meet  me, 
but  kept  his  eyes  riveted  on  the  table.  His  personal 
appearance  was  by  no  means  improved  by  his  late  dis 
appointment.  His  face  was  yellow asa  crocus:  a  beard 
of  at  least  two  days'  growth  threw  his  chin  into  what 
artists  would  call  a  fine  shadow;  and  he  perpetually 
shifted  his  position,  like  a  man  in  a  high  state  of  nerv 
ous  excitement.  I  could  not  but  feel  for  his  situation, 
and  was  just  beginning  to  express  my  regret  at  finding 
him  so  much  of  an  invalid,  when  he  interrupted  me 
fiercely  with,  "Aye,  you  may  well  condole  with  me; 
none  but  an  egregious  blockhead  would  have  listened 
for  an  instant  to  such  an  adventurer!" 

I  made  allowance  tor  his  outburst,  and  calmly  replied, 
"Mr.  Snodgrass,  you  do  me  injustice.  I  am  no  advent 
urer,  sir,  but  a  man  who,  on  principle,  and  this  only, 
sought  to  interest  you  in  behalf  of  the  party.  I  was 
prepared  for  a  more  difficult  task  than  I  encountered. 

The  alderman  here  started  from  his  seat,  then,  recol 
lecting  himself,  he  said  "What  is  this  matter  that  ycu 
say  you  have  to  explain?  Tell  it  at  once,  and  be  off." 

"Language  like  this,  Mr.  gnodgrass,  scarcely  deserves 
a  reply.  However,  to  show  you  that  I  am  not  vindic 
tive,  and  can  make  every  allowance  for  your  situa 
tion—" 

"My  situation?  what  do  you  mean  by  that,  sir?  Think 
of  your  own.  Yet  what,  after  all,  is  yours  compared 
with  mine!  I  have  lost  everything.  For  the  money  I 
care  nothing — it  is  gone,  and  there's  an  end  of  it;  but 


ELECTION   UNCERTAINTIES.  61 

where  is  my  standing?  where  is  my  influence?  where  is 
my  character  for  consistency?" 

"Have  courage,  sir,  and  all  will  yet  be  well." 

The  alderman  continued,  "  To  be  bamboozled,  para 
graphed,  and  held  up  to  ridicule  by  both  parties;  a  man 
of  my  years  and  station  to  be  treated  in  this  manner, 
and  all  through  the  trickery  of  an  obscure  adventurer 
-'tis  not  to  be — Ah,  what,  you're  there  still,  sir? 
1 1  ughing,  no  doubt,  in  your  sleeve,  at  my  egregious 
folly." 

"Folly,  Mr.  Snodgrass!" 

"Well,  wisdom  then,  if  you  like  it  better,  for  wise 
indeed  I  have  shown  myself  to  be  your  dupe!  You  knew 
from  the  first  I  had  no  chance.  But  what  did  that  mat 
ter  so  long  as  you  could  feather'  your  own  nest?  But 
proceed  with  your  story,  sir." 

"It  is  very  plain  and  simple.  In  one  word,  Mr.  Snod 
grass,  for  I  perceive  you  are  not  in  a  tit  state  calmly  to 
consider  the  details  of  my  proposition,  I  have  every 
reason  to  believe  that  George's  election  has  been  car 
ried  solely  by  means  of  bribery  and  corruption;  and 
that,  if  you  think  fit  to  petition  against  his  return, 
there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  House  will  decide  in  your 
favor.  To  be  sure,  we  are  far  from  immaculate  cur- 
selves;  but  fortunately  our  maneuvers  h  ve  been  man 
aged  with  skill  and  secrecy,  whereas  Grecrgc's  party 
have  been  openly  boasting  of  theirs." 

"Well,  sir,  and  what  then?" 

"Merely  this — that  it  remains  with  yoorself  to  decide. 
Your  chance  is,  I  am  persuaded,  better  tl.ar.  ever. 

"Indeed!"  said  the  alderman,  drawling  ou  the  word, 
as  if  he  were  half-asleep;  "and  pray,  sir,  tor  your  valu 
able  assistance  in  this  matter,  what  further  sums  may 
be  necessary?  Will  another  hundred  pounds  satisfy 
you?" 

"I  understand  your  sneer,  and,  as  an  honest  man,  meet 
it  with  the  contempt  it  deserves." 

"What!  and  have  you  the  impudence  to  call  yourself 
an  honest  man? 


62  ELECTION   UNCERTAINTIES. 

This  stung  me  to  the  ^uick;  "Oh,  Mr.  Snodgrass, 
Mr.  Snodgrass,"  said  "i,  "it  grieves  me  to  the  soul  to 
see  such  powers  of  sarcasm  and  eloquence  as  you  pos 
sess  thrown  away  on  an  obscure  individual  like  myself. 
Reserve  it  1  beseech  you, — 

These  words  wrought  quite  a  talismanic  effect  on  the 
alderman.  "Quit  the  room,  sir !"  said  he;  I,  in  the 
mildest  possible  terms  continued,  "  With  respect  to 
this  election,  Mr.  Snodgrass,  there  is  yet  one  way  left 
by  which  I  think  you  may  manage  to  dismcuuiber 
yourself  of  the  pecuniary  obligations  attending  it." 

In  an  instant  the  old  man  was  all  attention,  and 
said,  "Free  myself  from  these  election  debts,  did  you 
say  ?  Where — when — how  't  my  excellent  young 
friend.  I  am  hasty,  it  is  true,  but  always  open  to  con 
viction." 

"Oh,  my  plan  is  scarcely  worth  mentioning;  it 
merely  regards  pecuniary  matters,  which,  as  you  ob- 
Sv-rvcd  just  now,  weigh  nothing  in  your  estimation 
compared  with  the  loss  of  your  character  for  consist 
ency." 

"  True,  I  did  say  so,  nevertheless — " 

"  You  are  anxious  to  hear  it.  Be  it  so,  though  I  am 
by  no  means  sanguine,  that  a  person  of  your  distinction 
will  adopt  it.  However,  such  as  it  is,  it  is  at  your  serv 
ice.  You  may  have  heard,  sir,  in  the  course  of  your 
long — commercial — experience — "  said  I,  pausing  be 
tween  each  word,  "  of — " 

'•'  Yes,  yes,  very  good,  go  on." 

"Of  an — act — entitled— the — Insolvent  Debtor's  Act. 
It  is  one  of  singular — ' 

"Knave!  swindler!  rascal!  Is  it  thus  you  add 
insult  to  injury:"' 

"  You  complain  of  your  debts.  I  propose  to  you  a 
remedy.  Am  I  to  be  blamed  for  this  ?" 

"Quit  the  room  instantly,  sir  !  I  disgrace  myself  by 
holding  conversation  with  you." 


WHERE  THE  MONEY  WENT.  63 


CHAPTER  XII. 

WHERE   THE   MONEY  WENT 

'  There  is  no  need  of  bluster,  Mr.  Snodgrass,"  said  I, 
"I  quit  your  house  far  more  readily  than  I  entered  it, 
fully  convinced  that  when  you  have  regained  your 
senses,  you  will  do  me  that  justice  which  your  blind 
passion  just  now  withholds — " 

"By  Jove!  I'll— 

Just  at  this  instant  a  gaunt,  sulky  man  forced  his 
way  into  the  room,  and,  after  stammering  out  one  or 
two  awkward  words  of  condolence,  approached  Mr. 
Snodgrass,  and  thrusting  forward  something  that  bore 
the  semblance  of  a  bill,  was  just  commencing  with, 
"Touching  this  little  account,"  when  the  alderman 
snatched  the  paper  from  the  dun's  talon's,  and,  throw 
ing  it  at  me  exclaimed,  "  This,  fellow,  is  your  affair, 
not  mine.  You  have  had  the  money,  and  must  and 
shall  be  responsible." 

-''  Responsible  !  And  for  your  debts  too  !  No,  no, 
Mr.  Snodgrass,  I  have  no  objection  to  be  just,  but  I  really 
cannot  afford  to  be  generous." 

"  Wretch  !  this  impudence  surpasses  belief !  What, 
have  you  not  had  my  cheques  for  those  twelve  voters,  to 
not  one  of  whom  you  ever  paid  a  penny  ?  Nay,  more, 
sir,  have  you  not,  throughout  the  whole  business,  been 
bent  on  my  own  ruin  ?  Yes,  sir,  my  ruin,  I  say." 

"  What's  that  to  the  purpose,  you — 

"  Aye,  what  indeed  ?"  interrupted  the  man,  who, 
began  to  tremble  for  his  account.  "I  shall  look  to  you 
for  payment,  Mr.  Snodgrass.  I  know  nothink  of  this 
here  gemman.  These  are  hard  times,  Mr.  S.,  and  I 
mean  no  offence,  but  justice  is  justice,  and  law's  law, 
sir;  and  so,  sir,"  putting  on  his  hat  with  a  vehement 
thump  on  the  crown,  "I  wish  you  good-morning,  sir.' 


64  WHERE  THE  JVIOXETf  WENT. 

"And  I  shall  follow  this  worthy  man's  example. 
Possibly, Mr.  Snodgrass,  you  and  I  may  never  meet 
again;  I  avail  myself,  therefore,  of  this  opportunity  to 
declare  that,  despite  your  conduct  towards  me,  I  pity 
and  forgive  you;"  and  I  stalked  from  the  apartment. 

1  was  not  in  the  slightest  degree  surprised  at  the  al 
derman's  indignation;  though  I  had  no  idea  he  would 
carry  it  to  the  extreme  length  of  holding  me  publicly 
forth  as  an  adventurer  and  a  swindler.  True,  certain 
sums  intrusted  by  him  to  me  for  distribution  did  not 
exactly  reach  their  destination;  but  surely  this  did  not 
justify  the  atrocious  paragraphs  that  now  daily  appeared 
against  me  !  The  truth  is,  that  in  the  hurry  and  bustle 
necessarily  attendant  on  a  contested  election,  the  money 
had  been  overlooked;  but  I  put  it  to  any  man  of  feeling 
anddelicacy,  whether,  under  the  peculiar  circumstances 
of  the  case,  such  an  act  of  forgetfulness  was  not  per 
fectly  natural;  or,  if  an  error,  whether  it  were  not  one 
of  omission  rather  than  of  commission. 

But  I  have  a  better  plea  to  urge  than  that  of  mere 
omission.  As  principal  agent  for  Mr.  Snodgrass,  it  was 
of  course  necessary  that  I  should  make  a  parade  of 
superior  respectability — in  fact,  keep  all  but  open 
house.  Now,  this  could  not  be  done  on  the  wee'kly 
pittance  I  received  from  the  Flying  Reporter,  and  I  was 
compelled  in  consequence  to  appropriate  a  portion  of 
the  sums  received  from  the  alderman;  and  pray,  to 
what  more  fitting  or  laudable  purpose  could  I  devote 
his  money  than  to  secure  the  interests  of  his  election  ? 
For  nwself,  individually,  I  neither  asked  nor  received 
one  farthing  for  my  labors;  they  were  undertaken  solely 
with  reference  to  the  public  good;  arid  the  reward  I 
met  with  for  such  heroic  disinterestedness  was,  first,  to 
be  denounced  as  a  swindler;  secondly,  to  be  dismissed 
from  my  editorial  functions  ! 

In  this  predicament,  with  a  name  tainted  throughout 
Humbug,  and  but  one  paltry  hundred  dollars  left,  I  felt 
I  had  no  alternative  but  to  appeal  once  more  to  the 
sense  and  justice  of  Mr.  Snodgrass.  Accordingly,  after 


WHERE  THE  MONEY  WENT.  65 

much  deliberation  and  blotting  of  paper,  I  despatched 
a  pathetic  letter  to  him,  to  which  no  reply  being  vouch 
safed,  I  allowed  a  week  to  elapse,  and  then  sat  down 
and  penned  a  second. 

This  missive,  strange  to  say,  shared  the  fate  of  the 
former;  on  which  I  despatched  a  third,  wherein  I 
specially  requested  that  Mr.  Snodgrass  would  "do  me 
the  favor  to  consider  himself  horsewhipped;"  and,  not 
satisfied  with  this  revenge,  wrote  and  printed  for 
general  distribution  a  most  combustible  pamphlet,  in 
which  I  attacked  the  public  and  private  character  of 
the  alderman;  branded  him  as  an  apostate,  a  liar,  a 
coward;  and,  in  short,  laid  about  me  with  such  zeal, 
that  Mr.  Snodgrass,  stung  to  the  quick,  commissior.ad 
his  attorney  to  enter  an  action  against  me  for  libel. 

This  was  the  very  thing  I  most  desired,  for  it  not 
only  afforded  me  an  opportunity  of  publicly  vindicat 
ing  my  character;  but  also  of  mixing  up  my  case  with 
the  great  question  of  the  liberty  of  the  press. 

But,  let  no  man  trust  to  his  innocence  for  acquittal 
by  a  jury.  Law  is  a  game  of  hazard,  where  luck 
decides  everything.  Within  a  fortnight  from  the 
publication  of  my  pamphlet,  among  the  trials  which 
engrossed  public  attention  was  that  of  "Snodgrass  vs- 
O'Blarney,"  in  which,  after  the  plaintiff's  counsel  had 
inveighed  elaborately  against  the  licentiousness  of  the 
press,  and  the  defendants  had  insisted,  with  equal 
pertinacity,  on  its  perfect  freedom— both,  in  the  fer 
vor  of  their  eloquence,  losing  sight  of  the  main 
features  of  the  case — the  jury  brought  in  a  verdict  of 
guilty;  and  I  was  sentenced  to  six  months'  imprison 
ment,  and  a  fine,  which  I  had  no  earthly  chance  of 
ever  being  able  to  liquidate. 

What  a  change  had  the  last  few  days  wrought  in  my 
condition !  But  one  short  month  before,  I  was  in  no  incon 
siderable  repute  in  Humbug;  I  was  now  the  proscribed 
inmate  of  a  county  jail.  My  position  was  indeed  a  hope 
less  one,  and  the  mean,  dark,  cheerless  apartment  I  in 
habited  was  by  no  means,  calculated  to  raise  my  spirits. 


66  WHERE  THE  MONEY  WENT. 

Mr.  Graves,  the  jailor,  who,  affected  by  my  prompt 
munificence — for  I  had  slipped  a  five  dollar  bill  into  his 
hand  only  the  day  preceding — came  to  propose  tome  "a 
turn"  in  the  courtyard,  to  which  I  readily  assented. 

I  found  it  filled  with  prisoners,  who  were  pacing 
up  and  down  in  groups  of  twos  and  threes. 

While  he  was  pointing  out  to  my  notice  some  of  the 
more  notorious  among  them,  which  he  did  with  an 
emphasis  amounting  almost  to  reverence,  we  were 
joined  by  a  grave,  stout,  formal  personage,  with  an 
enormous  bullet-head,  firmly  fixed  (with  little  or  no 
intervention  of  neck)  between  two  massive  shoulders. 

This  stranger,  whom  I  soon  discovered  to  be  a 
piquant  mixture  of  the  scamp  and  the  pedant,  making 
me  a  profound  obeisance;  while  at  the  same  time  he 
eyed  me  from  head  to  foot  with  an  air  of  scientific  dis 
crimination,  expressed  his  regret  at  my  presence  in  a 
place  so  ill-calculated  to  improve  my  moral  or  physical 
condition.  "But,  sir,"  he  added  with  amazing  pomp 
of  manner,  "you  have  the  consolation  of  knowing — no 
matter  what  be  the  cause  that  brought  you  here — that 
you  are,  like  myself,  the  victim  of  destiny.  Vice  and 
virtue,  sir,  are  mere  matters  of  impulse,  I  have  come 
to  the  conclusion  that,  do  what  we  will,  neither  the 
best  nor  worst  of  us  can  control  our  actions,  that  the 
sum  and  substance  of  all  human  wisdom  may  be  com 
prised  in  this  one  sentence — what  will  be,  will  be." 

"A  very  sagacious  conclusion,  Mr. —  I  beg  your 
pardon,  but  may  I  ask  whom  I  have  the  honor  of 
addressing?"  I  inquired. 

"Stubbs,  sir, — Justinian  Stubbs,  late  professor  of  lan 
guages  at  the  Humbug  Charity  School — a  gentleman 
and,  I  trust  I  may  add,  a  scholar,  who,  by  one  of  those 
sudden  vicissitudes  to  which  the  best  of  us  are  liable, 
has  been  but  just  subjected  to  persecution. 

"Indeed!" 

"May  I  inquire  the  cause  of  such  an  accident?" 

"O  1  certainly,  sir;  I  need  have  no  reserves  with  one 
of  your  respectability.  It  was  my  fate  some  months 


WHERE   THE   MONEY   WENT.  67 

since  to  be  detected  in  certain  verbal  inaccuracies 
touching-  the  amount  of  a  few  corporation  subscriptions 
for  the  Humbug  Charity  School,  and  to  be  publicly 
exhibited,  in  conseqence,  to  the  gaze  of  the  most  un 
polished  rabble  I  think  I  ever  saw." 

"They  certainly  did  let  fly  uncommon  sharp,"  inter 
posed  the  jailor;  "the  cabbage-stumps  flew  like  any 
thing." 

"Vulgar  beast!"  whispered  the  fatalist. 

"You  could  scarcely  have  expected  otherwise  Mr. 
Stubbs,"  I  replied. 

"Sir,  your  position  is  unanswerable.  After  the  most 
impartial  consideration  I  fan  give  to  the  subject,  I 
fin  I  it  impossible  to  reconcile  myself  to  the  idea  that 
it  is  either  an  elegant  or  creditable  exhibition.  Still, 
like  everyting  else,  it  has  its  redeeming  points." 

"Mow  so?" 

"Why,  sir,  you  must  at  least  allow  that  it  teaches 
the  oppressed  a  lesson  of  forbearance;  to  endure  adver 
sity  with  becoming  resignation." 

"Sweet  are  the  uses  of  adversity,"  I  observed, 

"You  are  right,  sir.  It  is  the  very  Paradise  of  such 
sweets." 

"You  seem  to  entertain  a  very  soothing  recollection 
of  them." 

"And  why  not?  Conscious  that  I  was  the  victim  of 
destiny,  I  bade  defiance  to  the  storm  around  me.  I  yet  had 
not  my  ears  cropped,  like  that  illustrious  sage  Defoe." 

"  Why,  no,"  said  I,  "it  is  plain  they  are  as  long  as 
sver." 

"You're  a  wag,  sir,  I  conjecture  and  I  partake  your 
mirth.  By  the  way,  could  you  oblige  me  with  a 
quarter?" 

The  abruptness  of  this  request,  following  high-flown 
sentiments,  astounded  me.  However,  I  acceded  to  the 
petition,  he  instantly  left  me,  with  a  low  bow  and  a 
profusion  ot  apologies. 


68  I  CONFESS  MY  WEAKNESS. 


CHAPTER 


I  CONFESS  MY  WEAKNESS. 

"\Yhcn  we  met  again  next  day  in  the  courtyard,  OUT 
Conversation  turned  on  "my  late  experiment  on  Alder 
man  Snodgrass.  My  resolution  to  abide  the  result  of 
the  trial  astonished  him.  "Doubtless,"  said  he,  "it  was 
a  heroic  determination,  but  utterly  lost,  as  you  now 
find  to  your  cost,  on  an  unreflecting  age  like  the  pres 
ent.  You  should  have  quitted  Humbug,  sir,  the  instant 
your  degenerate  patron  had  lost  his  election." 

"1  confess  my  weakness,  Mr.  Stubbs;  but  society, 
you  know— 

"Society  !  "  interrupted  he  ;  "talk  not  to  me  of 
society.  It  is  diseased  to  the  heart's  core.  Look  at  me, 
sir;  I  am  an  instance  in  point.  Why  am  I  here?" 

"Because  you  can't  get  out,  I  suppose." 

"lain  here,  because  accident  was,  in  my  case,  miscon 
strued  into  design.  Hence  a  year's  imprisonment!  ButI 
have  one  consolation  —  it  could  not  have  been  otherwise." 

\Ve  were  here  interrupted  by  a  red-faced  young 
fellow,  who,  taking  a  cigar  from  his  mouth,  and  address 
ing  me  with  an  air  of  affected  courtesy,  exclaimed, 
"Proud  to  have  the  honor  of  your  acquaintance,  sir;  I 
presume,  like  the  rest  of  us,  you  are  the  sport  of 
Fortune.  Singular,  how  the  blind  goddess  always  per 
secutes  the  diligent  and  the  deserving! 

"But  I  see  an  old  acquaintance  yonder;  I  must  go 
and  join  him,"  said  Stubbs,  and  away  he  went. 

No  sooner  had  he  quitted  us  than  Wilde  said,  "There 
goes  one  of  the  biggest  rogues  in  all  England,  who, 
while  he  grasps  you  cordially  with  one  hand,  will  pick 
your  pocket  with  the  other.  He  sounded  the  depths 
of  mine  within  £en  minutes  of  our  first  acquaintance, 
while  I  was  listening  to  a  long  story  about  Helvetius." 


I  CONFESS  MY  WEAKNESS.  69 

"I  have  heard  twice  of  that  author  already,"  said  I. 

"Then,  sir,  you  have  paid  dearly  for  your  knowl 
edge.  Stubbs  is  no  advocate  for  gratuitous  instruc 
tion." 

"No,"  I  replied,  after  a  diligent  examination  of  my 
pockets,  "fortunately  all's  right.  .Nevertheless,  I  thank 
you  for  your  caution." 

"  I  am  not  unreasonable  enough,"  continued  Wilde, 
"to  condemn  our  friend  for  wishing  to  keep  his  hand  in 
practice — such  a  wish  is  creditable  to  his  ambition  as 
an  artist.  For,  after  all,  sir,  what  difference  is  there 
between  the  thief  and  the  conqueror? — •  I  protest  I 
can  see  none.  But  perhaps  I  am  partial." 

"The  main  difference  lies  in,  that  society  adjusts  a 
rope  to  the  neck  of  the  thief.  I  trust,  Mr.  Wilde,  you 
are  in  no  danger  of  the  latter  distinction?" 

"God  forbid!  I  am,  indeed,  condemned  to  undergo— 
excuse  my  speaking  professionally — the  last  penalties 
of  the  law  for  an  awkward  sort  of  night  blunder,  made 
on  the  premises  of  Alderman  Squarestern,  last  spring, 
(one  is  apt  to  make  mistakes  in  the  dark,  you  know); 
but,  luckily,  on  my  trial  a  doubtful  point  arose,  which 
induced  the  judge  to  grant  me  a  respite  till  he  had 
consulted  the  whole  twelve. 

"And  can  you  feel  at  ease  while  in  such  a  state  of 
suspense?" 

-"Suspense !     Nonsense !     My  attorney  says — 

"Mr.  Wilde,  Mr.  Wilde,"  said  I,  in  a  solemn  but 
affectionate  tone,  "the  less  you  have  to  do  with  attor 
neys  the  better.  Rely  on  it,  sir,  they  are  not  safe  or 
creditable  associates  for  gentlemen  of  your  character. 
But,  I  beg  pardon  for  interrupting  you,  what  about 
your  attorney?" 

"Why,  he  assures  me  that  the  point  in  question  is  all 
but  decided  in  my  favor  already. 

"My  dear  sir,  I  am  transported  to  hear  it." 

"No,  personalities,  I  beg.  I  hate  that  word  'trans 
ported;'  'tis  a  villanous  phrase,  and  should  never  be 
uspd  among  decent  folks.  Another  man,  now,  woulU 


70  I  CONFESS  MY  "WEAKNESS. 

be  offended  by  such  an  expression;  "hut  I  am  a  citizen 
•,»f  the  world,  and  take  things  coolly." 

At  present,  however,  I  see  Graves  yonder  preparing 
to  lock  up. 

Wilde  was  in  the  habit  of  conversing  with  me  in  this 
flippant  style  whenever  we  happened  to  encounter  each 
other  in  the  courtyard.  As  I  became  better  acquainted 
with  him,  I  found  that  he  was  a  wit,  and  without  one 
atom  of  real  moral  or  physical  fortitude.  He  boasted 
of  his  past  achievements  just  as  if  they  were  not  to  be 
deeply  regretted. 

Meanwhile  the  time  drew  on  "when  "Wilde's  destiny 
was  to  be  decided.  I  could  detect  a  very  visible  altera 
tion  in  his  feelings.  He  began  to  shrink  from  the  so 
ciety  of  his  former  crony,  who  exhorted  him  to  prepare 
himself  for  the  worst;  and  he  clung  more  tenaciously 
tome,  with  whom  he  held  repeated  discussions  on  the 
subject  of  his  chances  of  acquittal;  and,  though  both  oi 
us  came  to  the  same  conclusion — I,  from  good-nature, 
and  he,  from  sheer  incapacity  to  brave  the  worst — still 
it  was  impossible  not  to  see,  from  his  strange,  fitful  al 
ternations  of  mirth  and  melancholy,  that  an  uneasy 
something  was  perpetually  hanging  about  him. 

One  night,  by  permission  of  the  jailor,  and  at  Wilde's 
earnest  intercession,  I  accompanied  him  to  his  cell.  He 
Wits  in  rather  more  equable  spirits  than  usual,  abound 
ing  in  anecdotes  of  his  past  life,  and  speculations  as  to 
his  future  course  of  conduct.  He  was  tired,  he  said,  of 
his  old  habits,  and  had  serious  thoughts,  if  only  for  the 
novelty  of  the  thing,  of  turning  over  a  new  leaf.  I  ap 
proved  highly  of  this  project,  and  was  dwelling  on  its 
advantages,  when  suddenly,  "Hark !"  exclaimed  the 
poor  fellow,  turning  on  the  instant  as  white  as  a  corpse, 
"I  hear  a  foot-step." 

"Nonsense,"  I  replied,  "  'tis  mere  fancy;  or,  perhaps, 
they're  locking  up  for  the  night." 

But  the  quick  instinct  of  fear  was  correct;  for,  while 
I  was  yet  speaking,  we  heard  a  heavy,  measured  tread, 
accompanied  by  the  clanking  of  keys,  proceeding 


I  CONFESS  MY  WEAKNESS.  7] 

the  passage.     An  instant,  and  the  step  was  at  the  door. 

"It  is  the  jailor,"  said  Wilde,  fetching  a  breath  from 
the  very  bottom  of  his  heart ;  and  as  he  spoke  the  door 
opened,  and  in  walked  that  important  official  with  a 
written  paper  in  his  hand. 

I  looked  anxiously  into  his  face,  and  saw  at  once 
that  there  was  no  hope.  Wilde,  too,  caught  the  glance, 
but  instantly  closed  his  eyes,  and  waved  off  ^the  man 
with  an  impetuous  movement  of  his  hand. 

"Jonathan  Wilde,"  commenced  the  jailor,  clearing 
his  throat  with  a  few  solemn  hems,  "it  is  my  painful 
duty—" 

"Xot  a  word — I  will  not  hear  a  word.  It  is  false, 
and  you  know  it.  Come,  come,  Mr.  Graves,  confess 
now  you  are  joking;"  and  the  poor  wretch  clutched  the 
jailor  by  his  arm  like  a  madman. 

But  the  man  only  shook  his  head. 

"It  is — it  must  be  false.  Oh,  Mr.  Graves  !  my  best, 
my  only  friend,  as  you  hope  for  mercy  hereafter — as 
you  would  not  have  the  curse  of  a  dying  man  on  your — " 
Then  abruptly  breaking  off  as  the  word  "dying"  struck 
on  his  half-bewildered  brain — "Dying,  indeed !  Faith, 
this  is  excellent.  Hah!  hah!  hah!  Who's  afraid!" 
and  he  broke  out  into  a  fierce  laugh,  while  the  blood, 
surging  upward  to  his  forehead,  gorged  the  veins  there 
till  I  thought  they  would  burst. 

"Mr.  Wilde,"  resumed  the  jailor,  "my  duty,  however 
painful,  must  bo  performed.  Prepare  yourself  for  the 
worst — you  have  but  two  days  to  live." 

A  moment's  pause  succeeded  this  awful  intimation- 
At  length,  "O'Blarney,"  said  Wilde,  in  a  whisper,  such 
as  a  curse  is  breathed  in,  "take  my  hat  off — quick — 
quick — it  binds  my  temples." 

"Hat,  man  !  sure,  you're  dreaming.  You've  got  no 
hat  on."  But  he  heard  me  not.  Sense  and  feeling 
were  alike  crushed  out,  and,  dashing  his  doubled  fists 
against  his  forehead,  he  dropped,  as  if  shot  through  the 
heart. 


72  RELEASE  FROM  BONDAGE. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

RELEASE  FROM  BONDAGE. 

A  few  days  after  this  sad  occurrence,  as,  full  of  seri 
ous  and  painful  thoughts,  I  was  gazing  on  the  stump 
of  the  old  tree  where  I  had  last  seen  Wilde  seated,  I 
was  joined  by  Mr.  Justinian  Stubbs,  who,  observing  my 
melancholy,  said,  "Doubtless,  sir,  you  are  thinking  of 
the  poor  young  man  who  made  such  a  disastrous  exit 
the  other  morning.  It  was  a  sad  business,  certainly; 
but  is  so  far  satisfactory,  inasmuch  as  it  confirms  the  great 
philosophic  axiom,  that  what  will  be,  will  be.  Our  de 
funct  friend,  sir,  was  born  to  be  hanged.  Often  and 
often,  did  the  humble  individual  who  has  the  honor  to 
address  you,  delicately  hint  to  him  this  ungracious 
truth;  but  the  young  man,  with  a  thousand  estimable, 
and  some  few  brilliant  qualities,  was  strangely  regard 
less  of  all  that  militated  against  his  own  view  of  a 
question.  However,  I  do  not  blame,  I  only  pity  him. 
It  was  a  shocking  case.  Do  you  take  snuff ':"' 

"You  would  indeed  have  pitied  him,  had  you  wit 
nessed  his  death." 

"I  believe  you,  sir;  death  is  at  all  times  an  awkward 
matter.  But  enough  of  this  for  the  present;  Graves  is 
beckoning  us;"  and,  putting  his  arm  through  mine,  we 
strolled  back  to  our  respective  cells. 

In  the  course  of  the  evening,  while  I  was  still  sadly 
pondering  on  Wilde's  melancholy  end,  my  meditations 
were  put  an  end  to  by  a  tremendous  uproar,  and  the 
shouts  of  many  hundred  voices  outside  the  prison- 
gates.  A  few  minutes  after  the  jailor  rushed  into  my 
apartment,  breathless  with  astonishment  and  conster 
nation. 

"Hey-day,  Mr.  Graves  !"  said  I,  "what's  the  matter 
ucw  ?  You  seem  completely  at  your  wit's  end-" 


RELEASE  :FROM  BONDAGE.  73 

"Matte?  .1  Why,  there's  a  mob  outside,  who  have 
broken  every  window  in  town,  and  set  Ere  to  the 
mayor's  house.  They  hav<3  now  come  up  here  in  a  body 
of  eight  hundred  or  a  thousand  strong;  and  swear,  if 
we  don't  set  all  the  prisoner's  free,  they'll  burn  the 
jail  down.  I'm  blessed  if  I  know  which  way  to  turn." 

"Have  you  not  sufficient  force  within  to  beat  them 
off  'f  I  inquired,  and  my  heart  leaped  with  delight  at 
the  probability  of  my  liberation. 

"Force  !  bless  your  heart,  what  can  force  ilo  against 
a — hark!  there  they  go  again.  They're  at  it  now  in 
right  earnest." 

Knowing  well  the  innate  ferocity  of  all  mobs,  I  prof 
fered  Mr.  Graves  the  most  disinterested  advice  in  my 
power,  by  exhorting  him  at  once  to  throw  open  'he 
prison-gates;  "Otherwise,"  said  I,  "you  may  rely  on  it 
your  life  will  be  in  jeopardy,  and  it  will  be  but  a  poor 
consolation  to  you  when  dangling  from  the  prison- wall 
to  know  that  you  have  done  your  duty.  Our  first  duty 
is  to  our  own  necks;  our  second,  to  our  country." 

But  the  man  was  deaf  to  my  exhortations.  "Bless 
your  soul,"  he  argued,  "if  I  were  to  do  as  you — O  Lord  ! 
O  Lord  !  what  shall  I  do?  Hark,  how  they're  banging 
away  at  the  gates  !" 

"Break  open  the  doors — set  fire  to  the  jail,"  thun 
dered  a  thousand  hoarse  voices  outside  the  prison- 
walls. 

These  shouts  were  followed  up  by  a  terrific  attack  on 
the  gates.  Hammers,  brickbats,  bludgeons,  and  huge 
beams  of  wood  were  all  at  once  pressed  into  the  service 
of  the  mob,  who  cheered  each  other's  progress  in  the 
work  of  destruction,  which  were  as  loudly  replied  to  by 
the  prisoners. 

In  little  more  than  half-an-hour  from  the  commence 
ment  of  the  assault,  the  efforts  of  the  rioters  were 
crowned  with  success.  The  huge  brazen  gates  groaneds 
yawned,  and  finally  gave  way  beneath  the  rush  of  an 
infuriated  rabble,  who  poured  like  a  cataract  into  the 
jail,  bearing  down  all  before  them. 


74  RELEASE  FROM  BON  DAG  F- 

My  apartment,  being  nearest  the  gates,  was  the  first 
they  entered.  The  jailor  made  no  opposition — indeed, 
from  the  first,  he  had  stood  stnpified,  like  one  bereft  of 
all  his  faculties;  but  holding  forth  the  keys,  mechanic 
ally  as  it  were,  thrust  them  into  the  hands  of  the  fore 
most  rioter,  who  acknowledged  the  receipt  by  a  blow 
ivhich  compelled  poor  Graves  to  salute  his  mother  earth. 

To  rush  out  with  the  keys,  unlock  all  the  cells,  and 
then  set  fire  to  the  jail,  were  the  acts  of  almost  one 
and  the  same  moment.  I  profited  by  the  confusion,  and, 
forcing  my  way  over  heaps  of  drunken  rioters  who  lay 
sprawling  in  all  directions,  gained  at  length  the  ex 
terior  of  the  prison. 

Here  the  first  person  that  met  my  eyes  was  the  sage 
Justinian. 

I  hurried  forward  with  Justinian  towards  the  market 
place.  On  our  way  thither,  at  the  bend  of  a  dingy, 
narrow  lane,  we  saw  beneath  the  dim  glimmer  of  a 
lamp  at  the  door  of  a  small  house,  a  forlorn,  solitary 
female  figure,  sitting  with  her  head  buried  in  her  hands. 
I  cannot,  unmoved,  pass  a  woman  in  affliction.  I  halted, 
accordingly,  and,  addressing  a  few  kind  words  to  tho 
poor  creature,  inquired  whether  I  could  render  her  any 
service;  but  she  made  me  no  other  reply  than  a  low 
moan;  when  one  of  the  neighbors  came  up,  and  in  an 
swer  to  my  questions  informed  me  that  the  mourner 
was  a  widow,  whose  husband  had  been  killed  in  the 
forenoon  at  the  riots,  and  that  from  the  moment  his 
corpse  had  been  brought  into  her  house,  she  had  per 
sisted,  despite  the  entreaties  of  her  neighbors,  in  sitting 
where  we  now  saw  her,  like  one  bereft  of  reason. 

This  explanation  shot  a  sudden  pang  to  my  heart,  for 
it  brought  to  my  mind  my  own  wife  whom  I  had  almost 
forgotten. 

Just  as  I  had  passed  the  corner  of  the  market-place, 
I  saw  a  carriage,  the  dashing  panels  of  which  I  at  once 
recognized,  and  farther  on,  at  a  distance  of  about 
a  hundred  yards,  the  plump  figure  of  Alderman  Snod- 
grass,  who  had  but  just  reached  Humbug,  and  was  busy 


THE  TABLES  TURNED.  75 

receiving1  information  from,  and  giving  directions  to 
some  three  or  four  tradesmen.  He  was  as  full  of  bustle 
as  ever,  talking  at  the  very  top  of  his  voice,  and  turn 
ing  every  now  and  then  a  wrathful  glance  in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  prison. 

Though  aware  of  the  hazard  of  accosting  my  perse 
cutor,  I  could  not  resist  the  temptation.  I^stepped  for 
ward,  and,  making  him  the  pro foundest  of  bows,  ad 
dressed  him: — "I  am  most  happy,  Mr.  Snodgrass,  in 
this  opportunity  of  again  meeting  with  a  gentleman 
whose  generosity  of  spirit  has,  no  doubt,  taught  him  by 
this  time,  to  dome  justice.  I  hope,  sir,  all  the  members 
of  your  excellent  family  are  well;  and  that  the  fair  Miss 
Maria — it  is  my  intention  to  pay  my  respects  to  th<s 
young  lady  to-morrow,  when  I  trust  that  my  modesty 
may  not  again  prove  a  bar  to  my  good  fortune.  You 
look  well,  Mr.  Snodgrass,  whence  I  conclude  that  the 
little  unpleasantnesses  are  already  forgotten — " 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  TABLES  TURNED. 

During  all  this  time,  the  alderman  had  stood  like  one 
bewildered;  but  no  sooner  had  I  mentioned  the  word 
"unpleasantness,"  than  the  blood  rushed  to  his  face, 
and  he  gave  vent  to  his  astonishment  and  wrath  in  such 
broken  sentences  as,  "Well,  I  never!  Gracious  heavens, 
is  it  possible  !  Prodigious  impudence  !  But  you  shall 
not  escape  me  this  time;"  and,  seizing  me  by  the  collar, 
he  endeavored  to  drag  me  back,  when  I  freed  myseH 
from  his  grasp;  while  Justinian,  who  was  but  a  few 
dozen  yards  in  advance,  attracted  by  the  scuffle,  turned 
back  to  offer  me  his  aid. 

His  presence  did  not  in  the  slightest  degree  daunt 
Mr.  Snodgrass,  who  swore  he  would  not  rest  satisfied 
till  he  had  again  seen  me  consigned  over  to  justice, 


76  THE  TABLES  TURNED. 

hurling,  in  his  passion,  epithets,  such  as  "  rogue, 
swindler,  vagabond,"  in  my  teeth;  whereupon,  seeing  a 
raw-looking  constable  a  few  yards  ahead,  I  requested 
Justinian  to  prevent  the  alderman's  escape,  and,  running 
up  to  the  man,  said,  "  Are  you  a  stranger  to  Humbug:1" 

"  Yes,  I — I  was  only  sworn  in  this  morning." 

"  Well,  then,  follow  me;  I  want  you  to  take  charge 
of  a  suspicious  character." 

"  This  gentleman  and  myself  have  proof  that  he  is 
one  of  the  incendiaries  who  set  fire  to  the  jail." 

The  constable  instantly  laid  fast  hold  of  Mr.  Snod- 

frass,  who  roared  out,  "  Hold  off,  villain  !  Do  you 
now  who  I  am  ?" 

"Yes;  you  are  one  of  the  incendiaries." 

"Rascal,  I  am  Alderman  Snodgrass." 

"A  loikely  story  !"  said  the  constable,  leering  at  me 
with  a  knowing  wink. 

"Alderman  Snodgrass!"  said  I,  "how  dare  you  use 
the  name  of  that  much  respected  individual?  Take  him 
uway,  constable." 

I  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  him  safely  walked  off 
to  the  watch-house. 

For  appearance's  sake  we  followed  the  constable  and 
his  prisoner  for  a  few  minutes;  but  soon  gave  them  both 
the  slip,  and,  turning  down  a  narrow  arched  passage, 
were  instantly  lost  to  sight. 

After  threading  a  variety  of  lanes  and  alleys,  we 
reached  a  low,  dingy  brick  building,  with  a  square 
courtyard  before  it,  at  the  end  of  which  a  solitary  lamp 
was  burning,  Here,  making  a  sudden  halt,  "My  friend," 
said  the  philosopher  solemnly,  ''do  you  see  yon  edifice?" 

"Yes,  what  of  it  ?     It  looks  like  a  lock-up  house." 

"A  what!"  replied  Justinian,  "a  lock-up  house  !  Sir, 
that  building,  is  neither  more  nor  less  than  the  cele 
brated  Humbug  Charity  School  !  — 

His  meditations  were  here  abruptly  put  an  end  to  by 
a  cry  of  "Stop  thief!"  which  was  followed  by  a  crowd 
of  boys  and  men,  who  came  rushing  in  the  direction 
where  we  stood.  This  ominous  interruption  wrought 


THE   TABLES   TURNED.  11 

ft  talismanic  effect  on  Justinian's  nerves.  His  enthusi 
asm  was  below  /ero  in  an  instant; — in  plain  English, 
he  ran  away. 

In  vain  I  conjured  him  to  stop,  assuring  him  that 
there  was  no  cause  for  apprehension.  The  more  nimbly 
I  cried  "  Stop,"  the  more  nimbly  he  shot  forward;  while 
I  could  with  difficulty  keep  up  with  him. 

Away  he  flew,  up  this  street,  down  that,  and  when 
ever  he  showed  symptoms  of  flagging  I  kept  him  at 
full  speed  by  maliciously  crying  out,  "  On,  on  !  they're 
just  behind  us."  Having  at  length  cleared  the  town, 
he  stopped  an  instant  to  draw  breath,  when,  suddenly 
looking  behind  me,  I  again  exclaimed,  with  affected 
dismay,  that  the  constables  were  close  at  our  heels. 

"Oh,  mercy!"  cried  the  philosopher,  perspiring  like 
an  alderman  in  the  dog-days;  "it's  all  over  with  me,  so 
I  may  as  well  die  here." 

"Nonsense,  man  !  I  tell  you  we  must  run." 

"  Run  !  Ah  !  it's  all  very  well  for  you  to  talk  of 
running,  but  for  me,  with  this  weight  of —  However,  I 
suppose  there's  no  help  for  it;"  and  he  made  one  more 
desperate  effort,  when,  having  reached  the  high-road, 
he  shot  across  it,  and  thence  head-foremost,  through  a 
quick-set  hedge,  into  some  secluded  meadows,  leaving 
Humbug  a  few  hundred  yards  behind. 

Here,  halting  to  wipe  the  perspiration  from  his  fore 
head,  he  was  beginning  to  pour  forth  his  plaintive  lamen 
tations,  when  he  said  "  My  friend,  pardon  the  sud 
denness  of  my  resolution,  but  I  must  here  bid  you 
farewell.  Fain  would  I  proceed,  but  a  certain  twitch 
ing  in  the  calves  of  my  legs — to  say  nothing  of  my  ribs, 
— -warns  me  that  I  must  either  sink  with  fatigue,  or 
make  the  best  of  my  way  to  Humbug.  Will  you  ac 
company  me  ?" 

"Never  ! — the  alternative  is  too  hazardous." 

"  Oh,  as  to  that,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned,  I  feel  con 
vinced  that  my  disguise  will  afford  me  quite  sufficient 
protection,  while  you — 

««  'Tis  of  no  use  talking,  Stubbs;  my  resolve  is  taken." 


78  THE   TABLES  TURNED. 

"  And  whither  does  your  destiny  lead  you  ?" 

"I  know  not.  Possibly  to  South  Wales,  which  it 
easiest  of  access  from  this  neighborhood,  where  I  shall 
remain  secluded  till  my  late  adventures  are  forgotten." 

"Arcadian  simplicity!  The  idea  is  not  amiss  in  theory, 
but  defective,  I  fear,  in — 

"  Practice.  Possibly  so;  but,  to  say  the  truth,  I  am 
sick  to  death  of  all  literary  turmoil;  I  now  intend  to 
become  a  mere  passive  spectator  of  other  men's  doings.'* 

"Farewell,  then,"  said  Justinian,  grasping  me  fer 
vently  by  th^  hand;  "not  a  moment  is  to  be  lost;  so 
farewell,  my  friend,  for  ever  1  A  few  days  since,  and  I 
could  have  borne  our  parting  with  indifference;  but 
now — forgive  the  starting  tear — I  feel  the  man  triumph 
over  the  philosopher;"  and  he  applied  a  handkerchief 
to  his  eyes. 

I  was  not  a  little  astonished  at  this  pathetic  exhibi 
tion;  but  before  I  had  time  to  recover  myself,  Justinian, 
who  had  marked  my  emotion,  continued — 

"I  see  my  sensibilit^y  surprises  you,  and  no  wonder, 
for  I  am  not  apt  to  be  thus  overcome;  but  the  truth  is, 
my  young  friend,  from  the  very  first  moment  we  met, 
there  was  a  certain  something  about  you  that  irresisti 
bly  won  my  affection  !" 

"  I  thought  I  could  sympathize  only  with  tho  many. 
Alas!  I  feel  I  have  a  tear  for  the  one."  The  phil 
osopher,  after  again  bidding  me  farewell,  and  straining 
me  to  his  breast,  in  what  he  called  "  a  long  and  last  em 
brace,"  hurried  back  as  fast  as  his  legs  would  carry  him 
to  Humbug. 

No  sooner  was  he  out  of  sight  than,  a  strange  pre 
sentiment  flashing  across  my  min  1,  I  plunged  my  hand 
into  my  coat-pocket,  and  found  that  this  accomplished 
rascal,  while  busy  hugging  me  in  his  arms,  had  actually 
found  means  to  elope  with  my  pocket-book  !  I  have 
detested  the  word  "  philosophy  "  ever  since. 

It  was  on  a  warm,  mellow  summer  evening,  that  a 
stranger,  manifestly  young,  intelligent,  and  perhaps 
handsome,  but  with  his  expressive  features  sicklied  ever 


MY   CRAVING   APPETITE.  7?J 

with  melancholy,  stood  alone,  with  folded  arms  and 
downcast  eyes,  on  the  highest  summit  of  Llynn-y-van. 
That  interesting  stranger  was — myself!  Disgusted  with 
England,  I  had  no  sooner  quitted  Humbug  than  chance, 
led  my  steps  in  the  direction  of  South  Wales. 

As  I  stood  among  the  lofty  peaks,  I  exclaimed  aloud, 
"Yes,  here  indeed  is  a  Paradise  in  which  even  I  may 
find  repose!  Here,  will  I  set  up  my  tent,  and  enjoy 
the  sweet  solace  of  life.  Hope,  thy  visions  have  faded! 
Ambition,  thy  dream  is  at  an  end!  On  the  summit  of 
this  wind-swept  orag,  in  this  saddening  twilight,  I  bid 
ye  both  farewell!  Lo!  I  shake  the  dust  of  England 
from  ofT  my  feet.  Within  this  secluded  valley  I  shall 
find  gentle  hearts  and  unsophisticated  heads;  the  busy 
slanders  of  the  great  world  cannot  pierce  these  moun 
tain  ramparts.  Here,  then,  I  may  be  free  from  perse 
cution  and  detection.  Hark!  the  bells  from  yonder 
village  warn  me  onward.  See,  even  while  I  speak,  day 
drops  behind  the  groves." 

From  this  high-flown  soliloquy,  the  reader  will  per 
ceive  that  I  can  accommodate  myself  to  circumstances. 
I  can  conform  to  the  peculiarities  of  every  position  into 
which  circumstances  may  throw  me.  No  mode  of  life, 
no  turn  of  thought,  comes  amiss.  With  the  satirist,  I 
can  sneer;  with  the  good-natured,  I  can  laugh;  with  the 
mournful,  I  can  sigh.  I  was  to  adapt  myself  to  new 
society,  and  lo!  I  felt  already  prepared  for  the  change. 
Strange,  that  a  man  so  shy  and  bashful  should  possess 
such  qualifications. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


MY    CRAVING   APPETITE. 


On  I  went,  right  down  the  mountain-side,  till  I  found 
a  countryman  squatted  on  a  hillock,  and  tying  together 
a  broken  lash,  with  which  he  held  a  goat. 


80  MY  CRAVING  APPETITE. 

Had  this  encounter,  at  such  an  hour,  occurred  in  a 
more  <  ivilized  country,  I  should  have  been  robbed,  mur 
dered,  and  buried  in  a  ditch,  to  be  dug-  up  again  a  fort 
night  at'tor  in  a  state  of  perplexing  decomposition. 

The  man  replied  to  my  inquiries  by  informing  me 
that  Llandwarrys  (the  name  of  the  nearest  village) 
was  at  least  three  miles  off;  but  this  news,  did  not  dis 
concert  me;  so  I  pushed  forward  again,  amusing  myself, 
with  framing  shapes  out  of  the  shadows  that  twilight 
flung  upon  the  earth.  One  in  particular,  thrown  by  a 
short,  squat  blackthorn  across  my  path,  struck  me  as 
bearing  a  flattering  likeness  to  old  Snodgrass. 

But  fancy  ill  accords  with  an  empty  stomach.  I  have 
yet  to  discover  what  mental  specific  can  take  the  edge 
off  a  craving  appetite.  Hunger  is  not  to  be  argued 
into  submission.  It  is  stubborn,  it  knows  its  rights  and 
will  maintain  them. 

At  length,  after  incredible  toil,  I  was  lucky  enough 
to  stumble  against  a  cottage-garden  which  jutted  out 
beside  the  cross-road.  Availing  myself  of  my  good 
fortune,  I  knocked  at  the  half-open  door,  and  com 
menced  putting  questions  touching  the  distance  to 
Llandwarrys,  and  the  possibility  of  reaching  it  in  time 
to  obtain  accommodation  for  the  night. 

I  found  that  I  was  still  three  miles  off,  even  taking 
the  nearest  road,  which  was  difficult  to  find  in  the  dark; 
I  had  better,  therefore,  wait  till  the  moon-rise,  when  I 
should  be  able  to  find  my  way.  After  an  hour's  halt  I  had 
the  satisfaction  of  seeing  the  first  beams  of  the  rising 
.noon  glimmer  in  at  the  lattice. 

"\o\v,"  said  mine  host,  ''you  may  proceed  with 
safety;  but  as  the  first  part  of  your  road  may  perhaps 
give  you  some  little  trouble,  I  will  accompany  you  as 
far  as  Llyn-ym-dwarrys,  wrhen  you  will  be  within  a 
mile  of  the  town,  and  can  no  longer  make  a  miss  of 
your  way."  He  then  proceeded  to  put  on  a  pair  of 
thick  wooden  clogs,  and  whistling  to  his  dog,  which 
came  bounding  over  the  garden-fence  at  the  well-known 
summons,  led  the  way  down  the  cross-road. 


MY   CRAVING  APPETITE.  81 

It  was  a  fine  starlight  night,  with  a  brisk  wind  that 
kept  hurrying-  the  clouds  in  rapid  succession  across  the 
moon's  disk,  and  chequering  the  landscape  with  spec 
tral  varieties  of  light  and  shade.  Now  and  then  the 
breeze  came  in  sharp,  shrill  gusts,  that  whirled  the 
dead  leaves  by  hundreds  across  our  path,  and  brought 
to  our  ears  the  hooting  of  the  owl  or  the  trickling  of 
many  a  shy  streamlet. 

We  had  held  on  our  course  for  some  two  miles  or 
more,  and  I  was  beginning  anxiously  to  speculate  on  the 
chancc-s  of  a  speedy  termination  to  it,  when,  0:1  round 
ing  the  brow  of  a  low  hill,  we  at  length  came  in  sight 
of  Llyn-ym-d\varrys. 

My  companion  here  made  a  halt.  "Yonder  is  the 
town,"  said  he;  "you  have  now  only  to  keep  straight 
ahead  till  you  reach  the  Red  Lion.  Good  night,  sir. 
Rhys,"  continued  he,  whistling  to  his  dog,  "we  must 
be  quick  back,  or  the  old  woman  will  think  we're  going 
to  make  a  night  of  it. 

The  lights  were  still  twinkling  in  the  houses  of 
Lland-warrys  as  I  passed  the  churchyard.  Jn  a  few 
minutes  more  I  had  entered  the  town,  and  was  safely 
housed  in  the  snug  sanded  front  parlor  of  the  Rel  Lion. 
What  luxury  was  mine  at  this  moment!  I  contend  there 
is  no  enjoyment  equal  to  that  which  a  jaded  traveler 
experiences  when,  his  day's  travel  at  an  end,  he  ex 
changes  two  tight  boots  for  a  spacious  pair  of  slippers. 

I  had  now  been  nearly  a  month  resident  at  Lland- 
warrys,  and  the  pittance  I  had  been  able  to  preserve 
from  the  wreck  of  my  fortune  at  Humbug — indepen 
dently  of  that  portion  with  which  the  philosophic 
otubbs  had  eloped — was  fast  dwindling  away.  Domes 
tics,  whom,  1  had  imagined  void  of  guile,  materially 
assisted  the  diminution  of  my  funds.  Nothing  escaped 
their  clutches. 

But  this  was  far  from  constituting  my  sole  grievance. 
As  autumn  drew  on,  the  cottage,  which,  under  the  in 
fluence  of  sunshine  and  dry  weather,  I  had  fancied  so 
attractive,  became  not  only  damp,  but  positively 


82  MY  C HAVING  APPETITE. 

untenable.  The  walls  and  ceilings  began  to  thaw,  while 
that  domestic  insect  which  Sir  J.  Banks  once  endeav 
ored  to  boil  into  a  lobster  took  possession  of  every 
nook  and  cranny  in  my  bed-chamber.  To  wind  up  the 
sum  of  my  annoyances,  a  flood  one  night  came  down 
from  the  mountains,  burst  open  my  pantry-door,  and 
committed  a  burglary  on  all  that  my  servants  had  left 
untouched. 

When  I  arose  the  next  morning,  the  valley  was  one 
broad  shoet  of  water.  The  Towy  roared  and  chafed 
like  an  angry  sea;,  and  I  just  reached  my  ground-floor 
in  time  to  see  two  boiled  fowls  swim  off  in  hasty  pur 
suit  of  a  cold  turkey;  and  a  fillet  of  veal  "clear  out" 
from  the  lower  pantry-shelf,  for  a  voyage  down  the 
Towy  to  Llandilo. 

I  should  observe,  in  addition  to  these  vexations,  that 
my  pursuits  answered  the  purpose  neither  cf  amuse 
ment  nor  utility.  My  horticultural  experiments  just 
sufficed  to  convince  me  that  a  man  must  have  genius 
to  superintend  the  education  of  fruits  and  vegetables; 
when,  "with  fishing  rod  in  hand,  I  took  a  saunter  along 
the  banks  of  the  Towy,  I  was  constantly  hooking  the 
calf  of  my  leg,  jerking  my  hat  into  the  water,  or  pulling 
up  a  huge  weed  in  mistake  for  a  salmon.  The  fish,  I 
often  thought,  entertained  a  very  mean  opinion  of  my 
abilities. 

On  specifying  these  grievances  to  the  apothecary,  he 
consoled  me  by  the  assurance  that  they  were  mere  mat 
ters  of  course,  to  which  a  few  months'  endurance  would 
not  fail  to  reconcile  me.  I  refused  to  be  comforted; 
ind,  by  w\ay  of  effectual  safeguard,  I  proposed  to  the 
apothecary,  for  the  future,  to  take  up  my  abode  with 
him. 

For  the  better  enforcement  of  this  abrupt  proposition, 
I  pointed  out  the  various  services  I  might  be  the  means 
of  rendering  him.  I  stated  that  medicine  had  been  my 
fovorite  study  ever  since  the  period  when  I  first  com 
menced  it,  under  the  auspices  of  a  celebrated  physician; 
that  I  was  conversant  with  the  infirmities  of  poor,  weak, 


THE   APOTHECARY'S   WIDOWED   SISTER.  83 

shivering  humanity — though  I  did  not  for  a  moment 
presume  to  compete  with  him  in  medical  ability;  and 
that,  such  being  the  case,  I  considered  it  almost  a  mat 
ter  of  course  that  a  mutual  connection  would  turn  out 
profitable  to  both  of  us.  I  concluded  with  the  payment 
of  my  rent. 

The  apothecary  partook,  in  some  degree,  of  my  emo 
tion — In  common  with  the  rest  of  the  world — that  is  to 
say,  of  that  illustrious  and  influential  portion  of  it 
which  constituted  the  club  at  the  Ked  Lion — he  hel.l 
my  talents  in  exceeding  respect;  and  was  prepared  to 
augur  well  of  my  success  in  business,  from  having1  so 
recently  witnessed  the  skill  with  which  I  had  converted 
into  friends  and  admirers  those  who  had  at  first  re 
ceived  me  as  an  alien  and  an  intruder. 

Still,  he  had  his  doubts  of  the  propriety  of  my 
partnership  project.  I  was  young — I  was  a  stranger — 
I  was  inexperienced.  Granted;  but  I  was  industrious, 
persevering;  at  home  in  the  theory,  if  not  quite  so 
much  so  in  the  practice,  of  medicine;  and  was,  besides, 
in  possession  of  a  recipe  (imparted  to  me  by  the  famous 
Dr.  Killquick,)  which  had  effected  the  most  miraculous 
cures. 

I  saw  that  the  apothecary  was  staggered  by  my 
reasoning,  so  followed  up  blow  after  blow  with  all  the 
zeal  I  could  muster,  for  I  felt  that  everything  depended 
on  perseverance;  and  after  a  week  of  doubts  and 
dcmurrings  on  his  part,  I  had  the  satisfaction  of 
finding  my  efforts  crowned  with  success.  Drop  by 
drop,  water  will  in  time  wear  out  the  toughest  rock. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE  APOTHECARY'S  WIDOAVED  SISTER. 

About  this  time  another  change  took  place  in  or-.' 
domestic  condition.     I  allude  to  my  marriage  with  tbw 


84  THE   APOTHECARY'S  WIDOWED   SISTER. 

apothecary's  widowed  sister — a  catastrophe  which  too* 
place  after  a  month's  acquaintance  with  the  lady,  on 
an  erroneous  supposition  that  she  was  worth  money. 

And  here,  it  may  be  possibly  urged  that  I  was  guilty 
of  a  grievous  backsliding,  inasmuch  as  my  first  wife 
was  most  probably  still  alive.  I  plead  guilty  to  the 
charge;  but  may  state,  in  extenuation  that  such  was 
the  havoc  which  repeated  disappointments  had  wrought 
on  my  memory,  that  not  till  the  ceremony  was  con 
cluded  did  it  occur  to  me  that  I  had  committed  bigamy. 
When,  however,  the  dreadful  conviction  flashed  on  my 
mind,  the  shock  it  occasioned  was  inconceivable! 

I  should  be  trifling  with  the  credulity  of  1113'  readers, 
and  militating  against  the  sacred  interests  of  truth 
Avere  I  to  assert  that  my  second  wife  realized  all  that 
a  romantic  fancy  could  conjure  up  of  loveliness  and 
sensibility.  She  was  neither  a  Helen  nor  a  Juliet;  and 
when  displeased  with .  what  she  called  my  extrava 
gance,  was  fond  of  instituting  comparisons  between 
me  and  her  first  husband,  which  made  me — notwith 
standing  my  general  forbearance — more  than  once 
express  a  wish  that  he  and  I  could  change  places. 

It  was  some  weeks,  however,  before  her  peculiarities 
fully  developed  themselves.  For  the  first  fortnight  or 
so,  she  was  all  smiles  and  civility;  for  her  brother's 
business,  from  the  time  I  took  a  share  in  it,  and  began 
to  bestir  myself,  exhibited  such  a  satisfactory  increase 
as  to  enable  us  to  indulge  in  the  luxury  of  an  assistant, 
and  even  give  occasional  dinners  to  friends  at  the 
Red  Lion. 

It  was  just  about  the  close  of  the  honeymoon  that, 
after  trying  a  variety  of  Dr.  Killquick's  recipes  with 
but  indifferent  success,  I  hit  upon  one  of  which,  from 
having  once  tasted  it,  I  retained  a  very  vived  recollec 
tion.  I  had  observed  that  the  lower  classes  were  in 
ordinately  fond  of  stimulants,  so  persuaded  myself 
that  I  had  but  to  hit  this  prevalent  fancy  to  bring  my 
self  into  repute  among  them. 

The  recipe  in  question  possessed  all  the  requisite 


THE  APOTHECARY'S  WIDOWED  SISTER,  85 

ingredients  for  notoriety;  so  much  so,  that,  when  I 
explained  its  character  to  Mr.  Davis,  that  unsophis 
ticated  apothecary  opened  his  mouth  wider  than  ever 
it  the  idea  of  such  an  experiment  being  tried  on 
Christian  bowels. 

•'Why,  you  must  be  joking,  surely!"  said  he;  "the 
dose  you  speak  of  would  kill  a  crocodile!" 

"So,  for  Heaven's  sake,  think  better  of  it." 

Put  I  was  deaf  to  all  his  expostulations.  I  was  con- 
Tinced,  I  replied,  that  the  experiment  would  succeed; 
and  justified  myself  for  making  trial  of  it." 

The  "Infallible  Resuscitating  Elixir,"  as  I  styled 
my  new  specific,  was  a  medicine  composed,  in  nearly 
equal  quantities,  of  bark,  brickdust,  gin,  and  gun 
powder,  boiled  over  a  slow  fire,  and  flavored  with 
Scotch  snuff!  Its  success  at  first  was  equivocal;  but 
when  its  virtues  had  been  duly  insisted  upon  in  all  the 
public  journals,  it  brought  a  world  of  patients  of  the 
lower  orders  to  my  shop;  and  I  had  the  tact  to  confine 
it  exclusively  to  them  (well  knowing  that  your  civilized 
stomach  is  apt  to  be  fastidious),  just  as  if  it  were 
the  balsam  of  Fairy  Bias,  whose  singular  property  it 
was  to  kill  one-half  of  the  community  while  it  cured 
the  other. 

The  neighboring  small  farmers  and  their  serving- 
men  were  among  the  first  to  honor  my  elixir  with  their 
patronage.  The  bark  was  so  bracing,  the  brickdust  so 
cleansing,  the  gunpowder  so  stimulating,  the  gin  so 
palatable,  that,  no  matter  what  the  disorder  might  be- 
one  ingredient  or  the  other  was  sure  to  suit.  If  the 
bark  failed,  there  was  still  a  chance  for  the  brickdust; 
while  the  gin,  acting  in  spirited  accordance  with  the 
gunpowder,  produced  an  internal  commotion,  which, 
in  cases  where  the  gastric  juice  was  languid,  wonder 
fully  facilitated  digestion. 

One  of  my  patients  took  a  hearty  draught  every  day, 
and  always,  as  he  said,  felt  the  better  for  it,  though  "a 
little  sickish  at  first,"  he  grew  gradually  worse.  The 
gunpowder,  I  rather  suspect,  disagreed  with  him;  for 


86  THE  APOTHECARY'S  WIDOWED  SISTER. 

he   went  off  one  night  like  a  shot,  after  having  taken 
it  twice  during  the  night  in  currant-jelly. 

1  did  not  quit  this  worthy  man's  bedside  until  the 
last,  when,  with  a  doleful  heart  I  made  the  best  of  my 
way  home. 

It  was  a  dark,  moonless  night,  and  my  road  lay  close 
to  the  churchyard.  AY  hen  I  neared  the  old  Avail  that 
bound  in  the  last  resting  places  of  the  dead,  I  heard 
the  wind  moan  and  sigh  through  the  trees,  my  pace  in 
stinctively  quickened,  my  heart  beat  quick  and  loud, 
and  a  nervous  apprehension  of  something  horrible  flit 
ted  across  my  mind.  Involuntarily  I  thought  of  my 
patients,  one  or  two  of  whose  graves  lay  close  under 
neath  the  wall  which  I  had  yet  "to  pass.  "If  they  could 
rise,  from  the  earth  wherein  they  lie  full  six  feet  deep 
—if  they  could  rear  up  their  shadowy  forms  across  my 
path,  what,  in  the  name  of  Heaven,  should  I  do  or  say? 
How  convince  such  skeptics  that  their  exit  from  lire  was 
the  work  of  fate,  not  of  mortal  agency?  Disembodied 
spirits,  I  have  heard,  are —  Hah!  whose  are  those  eyes 
glaring  full  on  me  from  between  the  chinks  of  yon 
tombstone:'  Methinks,!  should  know  that  threatening 
countenance!  Hark!  is  that  a  voice?  Fool,  'tis  but  the 
wind!"  and  I  rushed  homeward  with  the  speed  of  an 
antelope. 

I  found  my  wife  up  and  waiting  to  let  me  in,  with 
her  brow  clouded,  her  eye  full  of  tempest,  and  her  tem 
per  in  a  high  state  of  fermentation. 

"So,  sir,  this  is  a  pretty  time  for  a  married  man  to 
be  out!  I  dare  say  you  will  tell  me  you've  been  attend 
ing  one  of  your  patients.  But  I  know  better;  there's 
my  brother  has  been  in  bed  these  two  hours." 

Without  vouchsafing  any  answer,  I  strode  past  my 
wife  into  the  parlor.  At  a  small  table.,  was  placed 
my  supper. 

I  glanced  at  the  repast  with  an  expression  of  disgust. 
My  wife  understood  the  hint,  and  exclaimed  peevishly, 
"You  need  not  turn  up  your  nose  so,  Mr.  Fitzmaurice" 
was  the  alias  I  had  assumed,  "the  supper  is 


MY   REFI  ECTIONS  AND  SUPPER.  87 

quite  as  good  as  you  have  a  right  to  expect  at  this  hour 
But  it's  no  use  talking — " 

"None  in  the  least." 

The  more  I  do  the  less  thanks  1  get.  Good  nature 
is  always  sure  to  be  imposed  upon.  Ah!  times  are  sadly 
altered  since  poor  dear  Mr.  Evans — " 

"Hang  Mr.  Evans!" 

My  wife  took  no  notice  of  this  repartee,  but  con 
tinued,  "I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  Mr.  Fitzmaurice,  I've 
just  been  looking  over  our  last  month's  bills,  and  have 
come  to  the  resolution  of  keeping  no  more  dinner — 

"Fray,  go  to  bed,  my  dear;  this  is  no  time  for  dis 
cussing  such  matters." 

"Aye,  that's  always  the  way  you  put  me  off;  nothing 
I  say  or  do  is  done  at  the  proper  time." 

"Well,  well,  we'll  talk  of  these  things  to-morrow. 
At  present,  I  have  some  medicine  to  make  up;  so  light 
two  fresh  candles  and  leave  me." 

"Two  fresh  candles,  Mr.  Fitzmaurice!  where  am  I  to 
get  them  at  this  late  hour?" 

"What,  are  there  none  in  the  house?" 

"Only  one— 

"That  must  do  then;  so  fetch  it  quickly,  and  go  to 
bed.  I'm  sure  your  delicate  constitution  must  suffer  by 
sitting  up  so  late." 

Sullenly,  and  with  many  an  ominous  shake  of  the 
head,  my  wife  drew  forth  a  candle  and,  having  lit  and 
placed  it  on  the  table,  admonished  me  to  be  sure  to  put 
it  out  when  1  had  done  with  it,  and  quitted  the  room 


MY  REFLECTIONS  AND  SUPPER. 

Left  to  my  own  reflections,  I  sat  wistfully  down— 
for,  to  eat,  and  digest  my  supper  was  wholly  out  of  the 
question — and  busied  myself  in  contrasting  my  present 


88  MY  REFLECTIONS  AND  SUPPER. 

with  my  past  situation.  I  called  to  mind  the  ambitious 
dreams  that  beset  me  on  my  first  commencing  my  theat 
rical  career:  on  the  hopes  which  buoyed  me  up  on  my  road 
to  London;  and  more  especially  on  my  connection  with 
the  Snodgrasses,  which  I  had  once  thought  would  fairly 
set  me  on  the  high  road  to  fortune.  All  these  had  now 
passed  away,  and  here  I  was,  the  child  of  mystery  and 
misfortune — an  alias  and  alien,  rooted  in  an  obscure, 
semi-barbarous  village;  unable  to  venture  forth  again 
into  the  world;  and  raised  from  utter  penury  only  by  my 
marriage  with  a  skinflint,  and  my  chance  profits  as  an 
apothecary  in  the  healthiest  situation  in  all  Wales. 

The  solemn  silence  of  the  hour — the  spectral  gloom 
of  the  apartment,  lit  only  by  a  miserable  candle, 
which  threw  its  flickering  "darkness  visible"  on  walls 
naked  as  unfigleafed  Adam,  and  old-fashioned  mahog 
any  chairs  with  elbows  as  high  as  the  cheek-bones  of  a 
Scotchman— the  excitement  produced  by  the  sudden 
death  of  my  patient,  the  thrilling  recollection  of  the 
churchyard,  all  these  associations  deepened  my  despon 
dency,  till,  worn  out  with  exhaustion,  I  sunk  fast 
asleep  in  my  arm-chair. 

But,  alas!  even  slumber  itself  failed  to  bring  relief.  I 
dreamed  that  I  was  seated  in  my  shop,  gazing  upwards 
at  the  shelf  where  stood,  ranged  in  due  order,  a  row  of 
elixir  bottles,  when — whiz!  out  flew  the  corks,  and  out 
too,  from  each  bottle  popped  the  head  of  a  defunct  pa 
tient!  I  was  astonished  at  their  numbers;  but  surprise 
was  soon  lost  in  horror,  for,  just  as  I  was  attempting 
an  escape,  the  goblins  leaped  with  a  bound  on  the  floor, 
pulled  me  back  by  the  coat-skirts,  caught  hold  of  me, 
this  one  by  the  legs,  and  that  by  the  arms,  I  implored 
pity,  but  in  vain — the  phantoms  were  inexorable;  when, 
suddenly,  the  ghost  of  the  exciseman — I  knew  him  by 
his  nose! — starting  up  from  the  inside  of  a  pill-box, 
forced  open  my  reluctant  jaws;  drenched  me  with  my 
own  elixir;  and  then,  caught  up  a  pestle,  and  kept 
pounding  and  pounding  away  at  my  ribs,  till  in  the 
a  irony  ort'  my  struggles  I  awoke — to  find  my  wife 


MY   REFLECTIONS   AND    SUPPER.  89 

stooping  down  beside  me  to  pick  up  the  nightcap  which 
J  had  dislodged  from  her  head. 

"Gracious  heavens!  Mr.  Fitemaurice,  are  you  mad? 
or  are  you  going  to  murder  me  by  way  of  gratitude  for 
my  affection?  Why,  it  is  now  near  daybreak,  Fitz! 
Fitz!  your  extravagance  is  past  all  bearing!" 

Too  much  depressed  to  reply,  I  rose  from  my  seat  and 
hurried  up-stairs  to  bed. 

A  Mr.  Gryffyths,  a  squire  of  ancient  descent,  who  re 
sided  within  a  mile  or  so  of  the  town,  before  the  week's 
•end,  had  a  case  of  the  rheumatic-gout  that  chained  him 
fast  down  by  both  legs  to  his  arm-chair. 

In  this  predicament,  the  good  squire  bethought  him 
self  of  his  usual  medical  adviser,  Mr.  Davis;  but,  as  my 
brother  happened  to  be  from  home  when  the  summons 
for  his  immediate  attendance  at  Gryffyths'  arrived,  I 
caught  at  such  a  favorable  opportunity  of  making  my 
self  known  to  the  elite  of  the  district,  and  volunteered  to 
go  in  his  stead. 

As  my  road  lay  by  the  Rupee  House,  I  called  in  just 
to  pay  a  passing  visit,  I  found  him  airing  a  damp  news 
paper  by  a  fire  that  might  have  roasted  an  ox. 

As  usual,  he  was  in  great  affliction.  "I  have  been 
reading  '  Buchan's  Domestic  Medicine,'  "  he  began, 
u  since  I  last  saw  you ;  and,  strange  to  say,  there  is 
scarcely  a  single  disorder  mentioned  in  it  that  I  have 
not  got  some  symptoms  of.  Very  hard,  but  nothing 
seems  to  do  me  good.  Thickskull  was  here  yesterday, 
and  advised  me  to  try  the  blue-pill.  He  begins  now  to3 
think  that  the  seat  of  my  complaint  is  the  liver,  and 
that  the  affection  at  the  chest  is  merely  a  secondary 
symptom.  Well,  well,  be  this  as  it  may,  I  can  assure 
you,  Mr.  Fitzmaurice,  I've  long  since  shaken  hands 
with  the  world,  and  shall  be  far  trom  sorry  to  bid  it 
good-night.  I  made  the  very  same  remark  to  Caustic, 
when  he  was  pestering  me  about  making  a  will.  It's 
very  odd,  how  persevering  that  man  is  !  I  once  acci 
dentally  let  drop  some  intention  of  the  sort,  he  has 
never  let  me  have  a  moment's  peace  since.  I  wonder 


90  MY  REFLECTIONS  AND   SUPPER. 

he  can  like  to  talk  on  such  a  subject;  but  he  is  such  an 
egotist !" 

The  old  hypochondriac  was  running  on  in  this  dismal 
fashion,  when  his  attention,  most  opportunely  for  me, 
was  called  off  by  the  yelping  of  his  dog  Venus,  the  only 
creature  on  earth  in  which  he  ever  seemed  to  take  the 
slightest  interest.  On  hastening  to  the  door  to  see  who 
or  what  it  was  that  was  thus  wounding  the  sensibilities 
of  his  pet,  he  discovered  that  the  offender  was  no  less 
a  personage  than  Roger — his  "•  treasure  "  Roger  !  who, 
having  forced  the  cur  up  into  a  corner  in  the  passage, 
was  belaboring  it  with  a  bamboo-cane,  and  cursing  it 
between  whiles  with  an  energy  that  might  have  created 
a  sensation  at  Portsmouth. 

The  nabob  seemed  quite  thunderstruck  at  this  unac 
countable  behavior  of  his  "treasure."  "I  am  astonished, 
Roger,"  he  said,  "at  your  conduct!  What  do  you 
mean  by  your  cruelty  to  that  harmless  animal  r" 

"  What  do  I  mean  ?"  replied  the  fellow,  who  chanced 
to  be  in  one  of  those  surly  humors  with  which  men 
with  only  half  a  liver  are  apt  to  be  visited;  "  why,  I 
mean  to  thrash  her— that's  what  I  mean.  She's  almost 
bit  my  thumb  off,"  and  forgetting,  in  the  rage  of  the 
moment,  his  usual  respect  for  his  master,  he  aimed  an 
other  blow  at  the  animal,  which,  instead  of  reaching 
her,  took  an  oblique  direction,  and  alighted  upon  Mr. 
Rupee's  shin-bone. 

The  unexpected  impudence  of  this  reply,  and  still 
more  the  assault  by  which  it  was  accompanied,  set  the 
nabob  trembling  from  head  to  foot.  I  never  saw  him 
in  such  a  state  of  excitement.  He  turned  white;  he 
turned  red;  he  turned  yellow;  he  absolutely  foamed 
with  rage;  and  at  length,  with  incredible  difficulty, 
while  he  kept  standing  on  one  leg,  like  a  stork,  and 
giving  sharp  jerks  with  the  other,  by  way  of  easing  the 
pain,  he  stammered  out,  "  Quit  my  service  instantly, 
sir.  D'ye  hear  ?  Quit  it  this  instant!" 

Roger,  whose  blood  was  quite  as  much  up  as  his 
master's,  was  about  making  another  saucy  "answer, 


MY  REFLECTIONS  AND  SUPPEB.          91 

which  would  infallibly  have  ended  in  his  beuag knocked 
down  either  by  himself  or  the  nabob,  when  1  stopped 
him  by  placing  my  hands  on  his  shoulders,  and  driv 
ing  him  before  me  to  the  back  door;  after  which,  hav 
ing  seen  him  fairly  ejectedfrom  the  premises,  I  returned 
into  the  parlor,  where  I  found  Mr.  Rupee  taking  quick, 
frenzied  strides  up  and  down  the  room,  like  a  man  who 
has  just  read  his  banker's  name  in  the  list  of  failures. 

For  a  few  minutes,  indignation  was  the  one  predomi 
nant  feeling  in  his  mind;  but  when  I  had  prevailed  on 
him  to  resume  his  seat,  to  my  inconceivablesurpri.se,  he 
burst  into  a  violent  fit  of  laughter.  "Well,"  said  he, 
"  this  is,  without  exception,  the  most  ridiculous  piece 
of  business  I  ever  was  engaged  in.  I  could  not  have 
believed  it  possible  that  anything  would  have  power 
to  rouse  me  so.  It  has  actually  made  me  feel  quite 
strong  again." 

"  And  no  wonder,"  said  I;  "depend  on  it,  there  is 
nothing  like  a  good  honest  passion  to  brace  the  nerves, 
and  set  the  blood  in  motion.  Whenever  we  are  low- 
spirited,  we  make  a  point  of  pitching  into  our  next 
neighbor,  and  it  is  astonishing  the  good  it  does  noth 
parties.  Bravo  !  I  protest  you  look  quite  hearty.'* 

"  Hearty  !"  replied  he,  rubbing  his  hands  with  ecsi  asy; 
"  why,  sir,  I'm  full  twenty  years  younger.  Haven't  1 
a  fine  color  in  my  face  i*  1  feel  strong  enough  to  do 
any  thing.  I'll  get  up  by  clay -light  to-morrow,  and  go 
fox-hunting  !  I'll  poke  the  fire  out,  and  sit  without 
one!  I'll  toss  my  physic  out  of  the  window,  ana— 

"  For  God's  sake,  Mr.  Rupee,  don't  do  anything  so 
rash.  It  may  be  your  death.  No  doubt  your  late  ex 
citement  has  done  you  good;  but  the  relapse,  sir,  that 
is  what  we  have  most  to  dread  in  a  case  of  this  sort.  If 
you  will  be  advised  by  me,  you  will  double  your  usual 
close  to-night,  and  early  in  the  morning  I  will  send  up 
a  few  tonics,  which,  with  one  or  two  composing 
draughts,  a  box  of  pills,  and  a  mild  blister,  will  set  you 
all  to  rights.  Physic,  Mr.  Rupee,  physic,  sir — aflei  ail, 
there  is  nothing  like  physic." 


I  PHYSIC   A   PATIENT. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

I  PHYSIO  A  PATIENT. 

At  this  moment  the  door  gently  openeil,  and  in  walked 
:he  penitent  Roger,  who,  halting  a  few  paces  off  the 
table,  where  his  master  was  seated,  was  commencing  a 
most  submissive  and  elaborate  apology  for  what  he 
called  his  "little  indiscretion,"  when  the  nabob  cut 
him  short  with,  "  Go  your  ways,  Roger,  go  your  ways, 
and  think  no  more  about  it.  If  you  were  hasty,  so  was 
I;"  and  then  turning  tome,  he  added,  "As  you  were 
saying,  Mr.  Fitzmaurice,  we  must  take  care  to  guard 
against  a  relapse;  but  surely  you  have 'no  apprehen 
sions  on  this  score  r"' 

«'  Oh,  dear,  no,  sir!  A  little  physic,  judiciously  ap 
plied,  will  prevent  anything  ot  the  sort,  particularly  as 
you're  just  now  in  such  a  fine  train  for  recovery." 

"That  is,  if  1  don't  fall  back,"  replied  the  nabob, 
whose  ecstasies  were  by  this  time  beginning  to  get  u. 
little  moderated. 

"And  if  you  should,"  said  I,  with  a  waggish  and 
most  unprofessional  smile,  which,  however,  I  could  not 
for  the  life  of  me  resist, "  you  have  your  remedy  in  your 
own  hands." 

"And  what  is  that?" 

"  Thrash  Roger  !"  and  so  saying,  I  made  a  precipi 
tate  retreat,  and  hurried  on  to  Gryffyths. 

My  time  was  now,  for  the  first  time  since  my  en 
trance  into  South  Wales,  beginning  to  pass  very  much 
to  my  satisfaction.  I  was  here,  there,  and  everywhere; 
now  sentimentalizing,  now  waxing  convivial  with  the 
squire,  and  now  discussing  local  politics  with  Caustic 
and  my  brother-in-law  at  the  hotel.  I  must  confess  I 
should  have  preferred  a  more  enlarged  sphere  of  ac 
tion;  but  this  being  just  now  wholly  out  of  the 


I  PHYSIC  A  PATIENT.  93 

question,  I  had  nothing  left  for  it  but  to  make  the  most 
of  my  situation. 

But  prosperity,  like  adversity,  is  not  without  its 
drawbacks.  If  it  was  fortunate  for  me  in  one  sense 
that  I  extended  my  connections  among  the  more 
respectable  circles,  in  another  it  was  far  otherwise;  for 
it  called  forth  the  jealousy  of  the  narrow-minded  co 
terie  at  the  lied  Lion,  who  could  not  understand  upon 
what  principle  of  justice  or  common-sense  it  was  that  I 
was  more  looked  up  to  than  themselves.  JM'.ich  of  my 
luck  was  attributed,  as  a  matter  of  course,  to  my  pro 
fession;  still  the  club,  with  the  exceptions  of  Caustic 
and  Mr.  Davis,  could  not,  or  would  not,  be  brought  to 
acknowledge  that  a  man  who  but  the  other  day  came 
among  them  as  an  adventurer,  with  scarce  a  penny  in 
his  pocket,  had  now  any  right  to  affect  the  superior. 

For  some  few  weeks,  however,  thei r  feel  i  ngs  were  con  • 
fined  to  sneering  insinuations  and  significant  shrugs  of 
the  shoulders,  whenever  my  name  happened  to  be  men 
tioned;  but  by  decrees  they  assumed  a  more  offensive 
character.  First  it  was  hinted  that  I  gave  myself  un 
warrantable  airs;  and  secondly,  that  there  was  some 
thing  mysterious  about  me;  whereupon  the  gossips 
would  revert  to  my  first  appearance,  withoutany  osten 
sible  motive,  among  them,  and  hope  that  all  would  be 
right  "this  time  next  year." 

Unfortunately,  so  far  from  endeavoring  to  soften  this 
hostile  disposition,  I  only  increased  its  acerbity  by  my 
show  of  utter  indifference — an  act  of  suicidal  folly 
which  was  very  soon  brought  home  to  me  in  a  way 
that  T  could  never  have  anticipated. 

It  happened,  one  day  when  I  dined  with  Mr.  Gryfi- 
yths,  he  was  so  delighted  with  my  queer,  broad  stories 
that,  in  the  exuberance  of  his  satisfaction,  he  promised 
that  when  Lord  Dwarrys  returned  he  would  take  an 
opportunity  of  introducing  me  to  him.  This  was  the 
very  thing  I  most  coveted,  for  I  knew  that,  if  I  could  but 
once  gain  such  an  influential  patron,  there  was  nothing 
A>  the  way  of  professional  advancement  that  1  might 


94  I  PHYSIC   A  PATIENT. 

not  calculate  on  during  my  stay  in  South  Wales;  so 
hurrying  home  in  high  glee,  I  just  stopped  to  commu 
nicate  the  news  to  my  wife,  and  then  stepped  over  thf 
way  to  the  Red  Lion. 

Never  was  I  in  better  condition — never  fuller  of  anec 
dote  and  vivacity  than  on  this  disastrous  evening.  Not 
a  remark  was  thrown  off — as  Mr.  Gryffyths  would  say — 
but  I  followed  in  full  cry  at  its  heels  with  some  oppo 
site  pun  or  joke;  and  this  with  so  little  effort,  and  such 
invincible  good-nature,  that,  despite  their  late  preju 
dices,  the  coterie  again  began  to  look  on  me,  if  not 
with  positive  good-will,  at  least  with  something  not 
very  fur  removed  from  it. 

But  one  among  the  assembled  party — ominous  unit! 
— was  silent  amid  the  general  mirth.  Where  others 
affected  the  conciliatory,  he  merely  sneered,  at  the  same 
time  keeping  his  eyes  fixed  on  mine  with  a  marked  per 
tinacity  that  attracted  the  attention  of  the  whole  room, 
and  at  length  so  annoyed  me  that,  thrown  off  my 
guard,  I  said,  cavalierly  :  "Are  my  face  and  figure  to 
your  liking,  sir?" 

"Less,  perhaps,  than  you  may  suppose,"  replied  the 
fello\v,  "for  I  have  seen  both  before,  and  that  not  very 
long  since,  under  circumstances  which — " 

"Circumstances  !"  exclaimed  one  and  all  in  a  breath; 
"what  circumstances:"' 

"Oh,  no  matter.  Mr.  Fitz — What-d'ye-call-'em" 
(with  a  sneer),  "I  dare  say,  will  understand  me." 

My  nerves  misgave  me  at  this  trying  moment,  and  I 
began  to  run  over  in  my  mind  what  the  fellow  could 
possibly  allude  to.  Had  he  known  me  as  an  actor,  or 
as  an  editor;1  Had  he  been  engaged  with  me  in  the 
scenes  at  Humbug  ?  Had  he  been  an  eye-witness  of 
my  flight  from  prison?  Impossible!  for  surely  I  should 
have  recollected  him.  Still,  despite  this  conviction,  I 
felt  far  from  comfortable,  and  wrould  gladly  have  beaten 
a  retreat;  but  for  the  life  of  me,  I  could  not  summon 
up  a  plausible  excuse,  so  there  I  sat,  nailed  to  my 
chair,  while  not  less  than  a  dozen  pair  of  eyes,  opened 


I  PHYSIC   A   PATIENT.  95 

to  their  widest  extent,  kept  glaring-   on   me   like  so 
many  burning-glasses; 

The  suspicions  of  the  company  being  once  roused, 
they  insisted  on  following  up  the  conversation,  not 
withstanding  I  made  repeated  attempts  to  divert  it; 
till,  driven  to  desperation,  like  a  stag  at  bay,  I  fixed  r 
menacing  look  on  the  stranger,  and  said  :  "Who  o> 
what  you  may  be,  sir,  that  thus  claim  an  acquaint 
ince — 

"Acquaintance,  sir?    God  forbid  !" 

"Why,  what  is  the  meaning  of  all  this?"  said  Caus 
tic,  peevishly;  "if  you  have  anything  to  say  against 
Fitzmaurice,  sir,  out  with  it.  No  friend  of  mine  shall 
have  his  character  sneered  away  in  this  manner.  Fair 
play's  a  jewel;  so  on  with  your  story,  man,  and  be — 

"Aye,  on  with  it!"  cried  out  a  dozen  voices  at  once. 

I  was  so  much  struck  with  Caustic's  generous  blunt- 
ness,  that  for  a  few  minutes  I  was  wholly  unable  to  say 
a  word;  at  length,  deriving  confidence  from  the  reflec 
tion  that  I  had  at  least  one  friend  in  the  room,  I  re 
sumed  my  address  to  the  stranger  as  follows: — "Who, 
or  what  you  may  be,  sir,  that  thus  affect  a  recol 
lection  of  me,  I  know  not;  I  have  mixed  much  with  the 
world  in  my  time,  especially  in  the  metropolis;  and  mj 
friend,  the  auctioneer  here,  who  has  done  the  same 
knows  well  that  under  such  circumstances  amanmeeU 
with  strange  acquaintances.  JNTo  offense  to  you,  sir." 

I  threw  out  this  flattering  insinuation  for  the  pu? 
pose  of  conciliating  the  auctioneer,  who,  however,  tool 
no  notice  of  it  further  than  by  a  surly  "Humph!"  01 
which  I  continued  my  address  :  "It  is  not  unlikely 
dherefore,  sir,  that  I  may  have  met  with  you  before 
but  most  assuredly,  wherever  it  was  that  this  encounte 
took  place,  there  can  be  no  circumstances  attending 
it  which  I  should  wish  to  forge't." 

The  stranger  was  stung  with  the  determined  cool 
ness  of  my  manner,  which  was  not  without  its  effect  01 
the  company,  and,  being  moreover  somewhat  touches 
by  frequent  libations  of  brandy  and  water,  he  replied 


EXPOSURE. 


"Since  you  say  that  you  have  no  wish  to  forget  the 
circumstances  under  which  I  last  met  you5  I  can  have 
no  hesitation  in  publicly  bringing  them  to  your  recol 
lection.  But  first  of  all,  I  should  tell  you  that  I  am 
traveler  for  the  firm  of  Hoax  &  Co.,  wholesale  drug 
gists,  in  Humbug." 


CHAPTER  XX. 

EXPOSURE. 

The  club  pricked  up  their  ears  at  this  exordium. 
The  attorney  was  particularly  attentive,  and  no  sooner 
hoard  the  word  "Humbug"  mentioned,  than  he  stole 
quietly  out  of  the  room — a  movement  which  filled  me 
with  dismay. 

"Humbug!  Humbug!"  said  I;  "true,  I  passed  through 
it  some  months  since  on  my  road  to  South  Wales;  and, 
now,  I  think  of  it,  I  do  remember  having  had  the  good 
fortune  to  spend  an  evening  with  you.  I  am  glad 
you  bring  the  matter  to  my  recollection.  Your  health 
— I  hope  you  left  your  family  well  at  home?" 

I  could  see  that  the  company  were  disappointed  at 
this  simple  solution  of  what  had  appeared  to  them  a 
most  important  mystery;  the  auctioneer  especially 
muttered  halt-audibly  between  his  teeth  :  "Pshaw  !  is 
that  all?"  But,  together  with  the  others,  he  was  soon 
relieved  from  his  disappointment  by  the  stranger  re 
plying  :  "You're  mistaken,  sir;  I  have  no  family,  nor 
am  I  married !" 

"Bless  me,  how  forgetful  I  am  !  I  recollect,  you  told 
me  you  were  a  bachelor,  and  amused  me  uncommonly, 
too,  by  your  quizzical  allusions  to  the  married  state. 
What  a  capital  joke  that  was  of  yours  about  the  fat 
widow  of  Clifton  !"  I  added;  for  necessity  is  the  mother 
of  invention,  and  I  felt  the  importance  of  putting  the 
fellow  into  good  humor. 


EXPOSURE.  y? 

The  man  stared  at  me  as  if  I  had  been  a  ghost. 

"Fat  widow!  Clifton!  Sir,  I  never  spent  an  evening 
with  you.  never  told  you  a  story  about  a  fat  widow. 
I  never  joked  with  you  about  the  married  state.  I  arn 
a  plain,  blunt  man  of  business,  and  detest  joking.  I 
never  cracked  a  joke  in  all  my  life,  and  never  meant  it." 

"  Well,  my  good  sir,  I  might  have  known  from  your 
face  you  were  no  joker." 

"And  from  yours  I  might  have  known,  what  I'll  take 
care  the  company  shall  know,  too,  that  you  are  a— 
swindler.  There,  sir,  what  do  you  think  of  that  for  a 
joke?" 

My  face  burned  like  scarlet  at  this  insult.  "Sir,"  I 
replied,  "you  are  a  scoundrel,  but  your  condition  pro 
tects  you.  It  is  clear  to  me  that  you  are  drunk.  I 
might  have  told  you  so  before,  but  a  false  delicacy  pre 
vented  me." 

"And  no  false  delicacy  shall  prevent  my  exposing 
you  as  you  deserve."  The  fellow  then,  with  the  most 
tedious  circumlocution,  went  through  the  history  of 
my  connection  with  Alderman  Snodgrass;  of  my  con 
duct  during  the  election,  where  he  first  saw  me  on  the 
hustings;  of  the  proceedings  that  had  been  instituted 
against  me,  in  consequence  of  my  "deliberate  frauds  on 
one  who  had  proved  himself  my  best  friend;"  of  my 
arrest,  imprisonment,  flight — in  a  word,  of  the  whole 
of  my  political  career  during  my  residence  in  that  most 
villainous  of  all  towns. 

"But  his  name:"'  inquired  the  attorney,  who  had  re- 
entered  the  room  while  the  man  was  in  the  midst  of  his 
statement;  "you  have  forgotten  to  tell  us  that." 

"His  name  is  O'Blarney;  though,  it  seems,  he  now 
calls  himself  Fitzmavricc." 

"So  I  thought,"  replied  the  man  of  law,  "and" — wink 
ing  sagaciously  at  the  company — "I  have  had  my  sus 
picions  a  long  time  on  the  subject,  though  I  said  noth 
ing  about  it;  but  now,  in  order  to  be  quite  sure  of  my 
man,  I  have  brought  with  me  an  old  number  of  the 
Humbug  paper,  wherein  thia  same  Mr.  O'B — ,  alias 


98  EXPOSURE. 

Mr.  F — ,  is  described  as  not  only  having  been  guilty  oi 
all  that  this  gentleman  has  alleged  against  him,  but  as 
having  been  seen  on  the  night  of  the  conflagration  in 
company  with  a  convicted  felon  who  assisted  to  rob 
the  clergyman  of  the  jail." 

The  parson  here  fairly  groaned  aloud.  "What,  rob 
&  clergyman?  O'i,  the  sacrilegious  villain!  Hanging 
is  too  good  for  him!" 

"I  an  sorry  for  you,  Mr.  Fitz — O'Blarney — or  what 
ever  else  may  be  your  name,"  said  Caustic.  "Your 
pecuniary  difficulties  I  could  have  sympathized  with, 
forall  gentlemen  are  liable  to  accidents  of  this  sort; 
but  your  ingratitude  to  your  friend  and  benefactor — 
this  is  what  no  man  of  honor  can  overlook;  so  the 
sooner  you  vanish  the  better." 

"Right,  captain,"  said  the  auctioneer,  "I  never  half 
liked  the  fellow's  looks." 

"And  he's  my  brother-in-law  !"  gasped  forth  Mr. 
Davis. 

Before  I  could  reply,  the  attorney  had  pulled  out  the 
Humbug  journal  from  his  pocket,  and,  putting  on  his 
spec-tax  Ics,  commenced  reading  it  aloud;  but  scarcely 
h:id  ho  got  through  the  first  sentence,  when  I  snatched 
it  from  nis  hands,  tore  it  into  a  thousand  fragments, 
a-;  1,  Hinging  them  into  his  face,  said  :  "This  is  a  mon 
strous  conspiracy,  got  up  for  the  sole  purpose  of  ruin 
ing  an  innocent  man;  but,  sir,"  turning  fiercely  to  wards 
the  traveler,  "rely  on  it,  you  shall  pay  dearly  for  your 
outrageous  calumnies,  arid  this  before  another  week  is 
Dver  your  head;"  and  so  saying,  I  rushed  towards  the 
door,  taking  the  company  so  completely  by  surprise 
that  not  a  soul  attempted  to  stop  me. 

Wlicu  I  reached  the  street,  I  stood  for  a  moment  like 
Dne  bewildered,  so  sudden  had  been  the  blow,  and  with 
such  stunning  severity  had  it  fallen  on  me.  Neverthe 
less  an  immediate  decision  was  necessary.  Ruin  stared 
me  in  the  face.  By  the  morrow  the  stranger's  calumnies 
would  be  in  general  circulation  throughout  the  valley; 
and  not  only  would  my  prospects  be  forever  blasted 


.   EXPOSURE.  99 

in  South  Wales,    but  intelligence  also  of  the  place  of 
my  retreat  would  reach  Humbug. 

The  last  consideration  decided  me,  and  remember!  p.^ 
luckily  that  the  Miltbrd  coa  -!i  would  in  a  few  minutes 
pass  the  end  of  the  street,  I  resolved  on  taking  my  de 
parture  by  it — but  whither,  I  was  not  just  then  sulH 
cient  master  of  myself  to  determine. 

Having  come  to  this  decision,  I  rushed  full  speed 
home.  My  wife  met  me  at  the  door.  '-Good  news — 
glorious  news,  my  dear,"  snicl  I,  rubbing  n;y  hands 
with  affected  ecstasy;  "I  have  just  heard  from  a  friend 
that  my  old  uncle — you  must  remember  my  often  speak 
ing  of  him — now  lies  at  the  point  of  death  and  desires 
to  see  me  instantly,  with  the  view,  no  doubt,  of  making 
me  heir  to  his  vast  property." 

"Well  I  declare,?*  replied  Mrs.  Fitzmaurice,  "flu's  is 
just  what  I  expected.  I  said  only  at  breakfast-time, 
some  luck  would  befall  us,  for  I  dreamed  last  night — " 

"Quick,  quick,  my  dear,  I  have  no  time  to  listen  to 
dreams  now.  The  coach  will  pass  within  ten  minutes; 
so  give  me  one  hundred  dollars  for  my  traveling  ex 
penses,  as  I  may  perhaps  be  detained  some  little  time  at 
Pembroke." 

"One  hundred  dollars,  Fitzmaurice!  I  should  think 
fifty  would  do." 

"No,  no;  nothing  under  one  hundred  and  do  pray,  be 
quick.  There  is  net  a  moment  to  lose." 

Grumbling,  yet  with  more  alacrity  than  she  ever 
before  evinced  on  such  occasions,  Mrs.  Fitzmaurice 
hastened  to  her  secret  escritoire,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
returned  with  the  requisite  sum,  just  as  I  heard  the 
coach  clattering  along  the  end  of  the  street,  and  the 
well-known  footstep  of  Mr.  Davis  hastening  across  the 
road. 

"There,  Fitzmaurice,"  said  my  wife,  thrusting  the 
money  into  my  hands,  "there's  one  hundred  dollars! 
Now,  mind  you  husband  it  carefully.  You'll  have  no  need 
to  stop  on  the  road,  and  with  respect  to  the  coachman—  " 

"(yood-bye,  my  dear,  I — " 


100  EXPOSURE. 

"You'll  be  sure  to  write  and  let  me  Know  bow  youi 
mcle  is." 

"Yes,  yes." 

"And  with  respect  to  the  coachman — " 

«'[  can't  wait,  God  bless  you;"  and  with  these  words 
I  hurried  off  iiiy  wit'e  calling  after  mo,  "Be  sure  you 
only  oive  the  coachman  a  quarter;  some  folks,  I  know, 
<rivo  rifly  c;  n's;  but  you  will  go  outside,  of  course,  so 
a  (jii  irlcr  will  be  quite  enough." 

And  thus  abruptly  terminated  my  rustication  in  that 
village  to  the  great  vexation  of  the  undertaker. 

''L'uid  of  my  earliest  and  best  affections'  Too  long 
have  I  been  a  reluctant  wanderer  from  thy  shores;  but 
now  I  return,  friendless  indeed,  but  in  manhood's  prime, 
to  associate  myself  to  thine  injured  sons,  to  live  with 
them-to  plead  for  them-to  suffer  forthem-and,  if  neces 
sary,  to  die  tor  them.  Oh  what  are  the  enjoyments  of 
wealth,  rank  or  intellect,  com  pared  with  those  which  visit 
the  pilgrim's  heart,  when,  after  many  wanderings  by  sea 
and  land; after  many  misfortunes,  aggravated  haply  by 
his  own  indiscretions  01%  what  is  oftener  the  case,  by  the 
ingratitude  of  others,  le  once  more  treads  the  green 
grass  of  his  native  land  Oh,  nvver  till  now  did  I  feel 
the  full  magic  of  that  little  word — country.  Now, 
indeed,  I  am  at  home.  Every  face  I  see  wears  a  friendly 
and  familiar  smile;  every  tongue  is  tipped  with  a  brogue 
f  hat  is  more  than  music  to  my  ear!" 

Such  were  my  reflections  as  1  sat  alone  in  my  lodg 
ings  in  Dublin,  gazing  from  an  open  window  at  the 
rrowds  that  passed  below.  Soon,  however,  my  reverie 
was  cut  short  by  a  tremendous  chorus  of  voices  raised 
in  every  conceivable  variety  of  intonation.  Looking 
up  the  street,  to  see  what  occasioned  such  dissonance,  I 
beheld,  slowly  advancing  along  the  pavement,  a  bill, 
bmly  gentleman,  followed  closely  by  a  pretty  consid 
erable  sprinkling  of  the  population. 

As  the  stranger  drew  near  the  spot  over  which  I 
was  stationed,  I  had  ample  leisure  to  scrutinize  him. 
Apparently  he  was  b^twwn  forty  and  fifty  years  ot  age: 


EXPOSURE.  10} 

cheerful  and  comely  in  face,  with  an  eye  slightly  puck 
ered  up  to  the  angles,  and  expressing  infinite  sbrewd- 
ness  and  humor,  His  build  wn.s  athletic,  particularly 
about  the  shoulders,  which  looked  as  though  they  were 
capable  of  sustaining1  any  weight. 

And  who  was  this  Patagonian  peripatetic,  who  walked 
and  talked  as  though  he  should  say,  "I  am  Sir  Oracle, 
let  no  dog  bark  when  1  clo  speak!"  Who  bub  the 
mighty  Agitator — O'Croimvell! 

On  what  trifles  do  the  leading  events  of  IT;  at  <imes 
depend!  The  fall  of  an  apple  made  Newton  a  philoso 
pher!  The  sight  of  O'Cromwell  confirmed  me  a — pa 
triot!  My  wandering  resolves— my  undecided  specula 
tions — were  called  home  and  fixed  at  once.  I  felt  the  soul 
of  Brut  us  stir  within  me.  "Yes,"  said  1,  in  a  sudden  trans 
port  of  enthusiasm,  "I  too  will  devote  myself,  body  and 
soul,  on  the  altar  of  my  country.  I  have  got  the  bast 
of  all  patriotic  requisites,  an  empty  pocket."  It  is  aston 
ishing  what  a  fierce,  outrageous  love  of  country  throbs 
in  the  bosom  of  him  who  has  scarcely  asixpence  in  the 
world.  Oh,  to  be  as  powerful  as  O'Cromwell!  To  be  fol 
lowed,  like  him,  by  the  shouts  of  admiring  thousands;  to 
have  the  pulses  of  a  nation  beat  as  those  of  an  individ 
ual,  at  one's  si  ightest  word  and  action ;  to  be  the  barome 
ter  by  which  the  funds  are  regulated  and  the  movements 
of  troops  decided;  to  be  the  bugbear  of  cabinets,  free 
dom's  bulwark  and  despotism's  scourge;  idolized  on  the 
banks  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  execrated  beside  the  Danube 
and  the  Neva.  Oh,  for  but  one  day,  one  hour,  to  wield 
the  sceptre  of  this  mighty  demagogue! 

Such  were  the  ambitious  aspirations  of  my  oawly 
awakened  patriotism* 


102  AN   AGREEABLE   SURPRISE. 


CHAPTER  XXL 

AN  AGREEABLE  SURPRISE. 

Xext  day,  a  grand  meeting  was  held  at  the  Corn 
Exchange.  I  went,  and  lo,  the  Agitator!  He  was 
seated  in  smiling  dignity  at  the  upper  end  of  the 
room,  listening  to  a  thin,  sallow,  acetous  orator  who 
looked  as  if  he  had  been  begotten  of  a  crab-apple  on 
a  vinegar-cruet;  and  who  was  pouring  forth  hot  words 
of  passion,  while  his  every  feature  appeared  convulsed. 

No  sooner  had  he  resumed  his  seat,  than  silence  for 
a  few  minutes  ensued;  and  then  a  loud,  unanimous  call 
for  O'Cromwell,  which  that  individual  was  not  slow 
to  obey. 

lie  commenced  in  dulcet  accents;  but  when  fairly 
launched  into  his  theme — the  enormous  injuries  inflicted 
on  Erin — he  recapitulated  those  injuries  in  a  style  and 
with  a  spirit  that  absolutely  electrified  his  audience, whose 
attention  he  kept  on  the  stretch  for  full  four  hours; 
when,  the  business  of  the  day  being  at  an  end,  he 
sailed  away  triumphant  with  a  tumultuous  mob  in  his 
wake;  and  next  day  six  columns  of  his  "winged  words" 
were  on  their  way  to  every  nook  and  corner  of  the 
three  kingdoms. 

"Here's  fame!"  said  I,  as  I  slowly  and  thoughtfully 
quitted  the  place  of  meeting,  "Here's  power!  Here's 
all  that  man  can  desire!  No  Avonder  that  the  weaver 
quits  his  loom — the  smith  his  forge — the  laborer  his 
plow — the  clerk  his  desk — the  apprentice  his  counter 
— that  all  professions,  all  trades  are  at  a  stand-still 
— when  expert  enthusiastic  patriots  like  these,  ply 
hourly  the  wholesome  task  of  agitation." 

On  my  road  back  to  my  lodgings,  I  heard  a  familiar 
voice  pronounce  my  name;  and  looking  round,  beheld 
my  old  colleague  Donovan,  with  whom,  it  mav  bo 


AN   AGREEABLE   SURPRISE.  103 

recollected,  I  had  had  a  little  dispute  in  London,  touch 
ing  a  certain  libel  for  which  he  wished  to  make  me  re 
sponsible.  He  was  now  engaged  as  a  reporter  for  a 
Dublin  journal,  and  filled  up  Ins  leisure  hours  by  occa 
sionally  holding  forth  at  the  Corn  Exchange. 

To  meet  Donovan,  and  to  ask  him  to  dinner,  were 
the  acts  of  one  and  the  same  moment.  I  had  long 
since  forgiven  his  behavior  to  me,  and  as  he  seemeo 
equally  disposed  to  be  conciliatory,  we  agreed  to  pass 
a  social  evening  together. 

There  are  few  greater  pleasures  in  life — few  that 
more  actively  call  forth  our  dormant  sympathies — than 
sudden  meetings  of  this  sort;  more  especially  after 
time,  absence,  and  continual  commerce  with  the  world 
have  wrought  their  usual  blighting  effects  on  our  feel 
ings. 

In  the  course  of  the  evening,  when  the  good  cheef 
had  opened  our  hearts,  Donovan  gave  me  the  history 
of  that  '-cursed  libel,"  which,  it  seems,  had  not  only 
been  the  means  of  subjecting  him  to  fine  and  inprison- 
ment;but  had  saddled  him, besides  with  a  host  of  legal 
expenses,  which  he  was  only  enabled  to  liquidate  by 
the  sale,  at  a  heavy  loss,  of  his  Sunday  journal.  "How 
ever,"  ho  added  with  vivacity,  when  he  had  brought  his 
narrative  to  a  close,  "these  things  are  all  done  with 
now;  I  have  quitted  London  forever,  and  am  here 
a  fixed  resident  in  Dublin,  where  I  have  been  upwards 
of  three  months.  But  what  brings  you  over  the 
water?  A  truant  disposition,  or  a  pressing  necessity?" 

"Oh,  the  old  story,  necessity,"  I  replied.  And  with 
out  entering  too  minutely  into  the  history  of  my  advent 
ures  since  wo  last  parted  (for  I  am  naturally  delicate 
in  alluding  to  my  own  private  affairs),  I  contented  my^ 
self  with  a  brief  rambling  sketch,  and  then  proceeded 
to  ask  advice  as  to  the  best  and  readiest  means  of 
putting  my  new  resolves  into  execution. 

"My  good  fellow,"  answered  Donovan,  "your  inten 
tions  are  every  way  worthy  of  you;  but  here,  they  will 
be  found,  I  fear,  impracticable," 


104  Atf   AGREEABLE    SURPRISE. 

"Then  what  am  1  to  do? — where  betake  myself?" 

"Those  are  questions  more  easily  asked  than 
answered." 

"But  surely  your  tact  and  experience  can  help  me  to 
some  suggestion?" 

"No  indeed,  I  can't.  All  I  know  is,  that  you  have 
not  the  slightest  chance.  Why,  even  I  have  made  r.o 
great  hit  as  yet,  whatever  I  may  do  hereafter;  how 
then,  can  you?  But  J  hate  comparisons:  let's  talk  oi 
something  else." 

But  this  was  not  what  I  wanted;  so,  in  a  few 
minutes,  J  returned  to  the  charge  by  announcing  my 
intention  of  offering  my  services  to  the  editors  ot  the 
journals:  whereupon  Donovan,  jealous,  no  doubt,  of 
such  a  competitor,  said, — • 

"A  good  idea  has  just  struck  me!  Why  not  try  the 
provincial  press?  A  county  newspaper  will  be  the 
very  thing  for  you.  You  will  find  no  rivals  there;  and 
by  exerting  due  tact,  may  make  yourself  as  popular  as 
you  please." 

"But  the  arena  is  so  circumscribed?" 

"Stuff  1      How  can  you  tell  till  you  try? 

"Yes;  but  to  fall  back  again,  after  all  one's  efforts 
to  emerge  from  it,  to  a  condition  ot  bankruptcy — 

"Better  that  than  nothing." 

"Oh,  of  course;  but  I  an?  by  no  means  sure  that  my 
case  is  yet  so  desperate.  However,  let  us  drop  the 
subject  for  the  present;  to-morrow  evening  I  will  call 
an  1  acquaint  you  with  my  decision." 

The  next,  day,  without  hinting  a  syllable  of  my  inten 
tions  to  Donovan,  I  made  the  round  of  the  morning  airl 
evening  papers,  with  an  offer  of  my  services ;  but  meet 
ing  with  equal  discouragement  at  every  office  I  visited 
I  resolved  on  adopting  Donovan's  suggestion. 

"I  congratulate  you,"  said  he,  when  we  met  pur 
suant  to  agreement,  "on  your  decision.  In  what  way 
do  you  propose  to  proceed?" 

"By  advertising.     I  know  of  no  other  method." 

"Humph!  Better  to  work  through  private  connection- r 


AN  AGREEABLE   SURPRISE.  105 

"But  I  have  no  private  connection,  unless  you  can 
assist  me." 

"Maybe  I  can.  What  say  you  to  a  trip,  by  way  of 
experiment,  to  Ballinabroguei'" 

"Why  do  you  ask?" 

"For  five  good  reasons.  First,  because  the  district 
is  most  decidedly  the  best.  Secondly,  because  it  affords 
a  fine  opening  for  constitutional  agitation.  Thirdly, 
because  the  inhabitants  are  wealthy.  Fourthly,  because 
an  important  meeting  is  to  be  held  there  within  the 
month,  at  which  you  may  exhibit  your  eloquence  to 
advantage.  And,  lastly,  because  the  editor  and  pro 
prietor  of  the  leading  Ballinabrogue  journal  is  my 
^ery  particular  friend.  Here  is  a  goodly  show  of 
reasons  for  you!" 

"And  equally  unanswerable." 

"Then  you  will  think  seriously  of  my  proposal?" 

"I  accede  to  it  at  once." 

"Good;  and  I  will  pave  the  way  for  you  by  a  letter 
of  introduction  to  the  proprietor  in  question,  who,  as 
my  friend,  will  put  you  in  the  way  at  acquiring  a 
connection,  which  you  may  extend  or  not  as  you  please; 
and  possibly,  should  the  editorial  chair  be  vacant, 
enthrone  you  in  that  seat  of  honor." 

,,My  dear  fellow,"  said  I,  grasping  him  warmly  by 
t  he  hand,  "I  am  eternally  your  debtor." 

"Just  what  my  confounded  tailor  says  of  me,  when 
ever  I  chance  to  meet  him." 

"What  is  the  name  of  the  gentleman  to  whom  you 
are  going  to  introduce  me?" 

"Flannaghan,  and  you'll  find  him  as  able  and  will 
ing  to  assist  you  as  any  man  that  ever  breathed." 

"Thank  God  for  that;  I  never  was  in  more  need  of 
a  friend!"  with  which  words  we  parted;  and  early  on 
the  following  day,  having  received  testimonials,  letters 
of  introduction,  and  so  forth,  I  mounted  his  majesty's 
mail,  and  made  the  best  of  my  way  to  Ballinabrogue. 


106  ONCE   MORE  AN  EDITOB. 


CHAPTER  XXIL 

ONCE   MORE   AN   EDITOR. 

Nothing*  of  the  slightest  importance  occurred  during 
the  journey,  except  that  the  coach  was  stopped  on  the 
road,  the  guard  robbed  of  the  mail  bags,  and  the  coach 
man  twice  shot  at  from  behind  a  hedge. 

The  first  thing  I  did  on  reaching  Ballinabrogue  was 
to  ensconce  myself  in  a  suitable  lodging;  the  second,  to 
mid  out  the  proprietor  of  the  county  journal,  by  whom, 
as  an  old  acquaintance  of  Donovan,  I  calculated  on 
being  favorably  received. 

Mr.  Flannagham,  however,  happened  to  be  out  when 
I  called,  engaged  as  witness  on  a  trial;  whereupon, 
leaving  my  credentials  enclosed  in  an  explanatory  note, 
I  placed  it  in  the  clerk's  hands,  with  a  special  request 
that  he  would  tell  his  employer,  the  instant  he  came 
back,  that  the  person  who  left  the  letter  would,  him 
self  call  for  an  answer  in  the  course  of  the  day. 

In  the  evening,  accordingly,  I  presented  myself 
again  at  the  office,  and  was  ushered  into  the  proprie 
tor's  private  room.  I  found  him  just  as  Donovan  had 
described  him,  a  frank,  jovial,  good-natured  man — 
one  of  that  class  of  beings  with  whom  one  is  at  home 
in  an  instant.  He  was  held  in  general  esteem  among 
his  neighbors;  moved  in  excellent  circles  and,  in  point 
of  fortune,  was  in  what  may  be  called  "easy  circum 
stances;"  and  this,  independently  of  the  emoluments 
he  derived  from  his  journal,  which,  being  the  oldest 
and  the  most  liberal,  enjoyed  a  great  circulation. 

Such  a  connection  was  quite  a  god-send  to  a  patriot 
like  myself,  and  more  especially  was  it  of  value, 
because  from  the  fact  of  his  being  a  man  of  substance, 
rendered  the  conduct  of  his  journal  not  a  little  irk 
some  to  him. 


ONOE  MORE  AN  EDITOK.  10? 

tinder  these  circumstances,  he  naturally  looked  on 
me  as  an  angel  sent  from  heaven  to  his  deliverance; 
so  the  question  of  writing,  and  upon  what  terms,  was 
broached,  even  on  our  first  interview:  in  the  course  of 
which,  I  took  care  to  let  drop  a  discreet  sketch  of  the 
rise,  progress,  and  termination  of  my  connection  with 
the  London  press,  to  which  Mr.  Flannaghan  listened 
with  marked  attention;  but  taking  for  granted  that> 
like  a  man  of  the  world,  he  would  believe  only  one- 
half  of  what  I  said,  I  was  resolved  that  one-half 
should  be  such  as  to  ensure  me  a  favorable  verdict. 

It  was  not  till  a  late  honr,  after  an  agreeable  and, 
considering  the  circumstances,  quite  a  confidential  fete' 
a-lete,  that  I  took  leave  of  my  hospitable  host.  The  best 
part  of  the  next  day  I  spent  in  drawing  up  a  political 
communication  in  the  form  of  a  "letter  from  a 
correspondent,'  with  a  view  to  keep  alive  public 
interest  in  favor  of  the  approaching  meeting.  I  am 
willing  to  suppose  that  it  was  skill  fully  executed;  at 
any  rate,  it  answered  its  purpose;  for,  being  peppery 
and  personal,  it  drew  from  Mr.  Flannaghun  the 
acknowledgment  that  he  could  not  have  done  it  better 
himself.  I  should  think  not.  But  I  did  not  say  so. 

This  communication  was  followed  up  by  some  five 
or  six  leading  articles,  which  I  had  the  good  fortune 
to  find  favorably  noticed  in  the  neighborhood— so  favor 
ably,  indeed,  and  so  opportunely,  as  to  induce  Mr. 
Flannaghan,  without  further  hesitation,  to  make  over 
to  me  his  editorial  functions,  to  which  he  attached  a 
weekly  stipend,  just  sufficient  to  enable  me  to  keep  my 
head  above  water. 

But  this  was  not  the  only  kindness  I  received  at  the 
hands  of  this  estimable  individual.  As  our  acquaint 
ance  strengthened,  he  introduced  me  to  many  respect 
able  people,  who,  fascinated  by  my  modest  demeanor, 
by  the  consummate  knowledge  I  appeared  to  possess, 
and  above  all,  by  my  freshness  and  enthusiasm,  treated 
me  with  signal  respect  and  courtesy. 

The  day  appointed  for  the  meeting  was  now  fast 


108  A   FOOLISH   QUARliEL. 

approaching.     For  some  time  previous,  it  had  been  the 
theme  of  general  discussion  throughout  the  country. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

A  FOOLISH   QUARREL. 

On  the  evening  preceding  it  I  paid  a  visit  to  Mr 
Flannaghan,  who  had  taken  up  his  residence  in  a  cot 
tage  just  outside  the  town.  As  it  was  late  when  I 
called,  I  found  him  seated  with  a  friend  and  neighbor, 
one  Kelly, — a  lean,  pompous  attorney,  with  a  short 
body  and  long  legs,  like  a  pair  of  tongs, — wrhom  I  had 
seen  in  his  company  once  or  twice  before,  and  who,  in 
common  with  many  other  persons  of  the  same  persua 
sion,  bore  with  Mr.  Flannaghan's  politics  in  considera 
tion  of  his  excellent  qualities  as  a  man. 

Mr.  Flannaghan  had  evidently  been  just  delivered  of 
one  of  his  smartest  anecdotes;  for  Avhen  I  entered,  a 
dying  grin  still  lingered  on  his  guest's  countenance. 

"I  can  guess,  O'Blarney,"  said  the  former,  "what 
brings  you  here  at  this  late  hour.  It  is  about  to-mor 
row's  meeting." 

"Yes;  I  am  anxious  to  know  whether  you  will  attend 
or  not." 

"That  will  depend  on  the  weather.  You'll  speak,  of 
course?" 

"I  can't  avoid  it,  for  the  committee  have  placed  in 
my  hands  one  of  the  most  important  resolutions.  But 
surely,  sir,  you'll  say  something,  as  well  as  the  rest  of 
us?"' 

"No,  no,"  replied  Mr.  Flannaghan;  "at  my  age,  men 
begin  to  sicken  of  public  life." 

"I  wish  to  fortune,  Flannaghan,"  said  Mr.  Kelly, 
"that  all  men  were  as  sensible  as  yourself." 

"Why,  I — certainly — do — flatter — myself,"  drawled 
out  mine  host,  stroking  his  chin  with  an  air  of  mucfc 


A   FOOLISH  QUARREL  10(J 

•elf-complacency,  "I  do  flatter  myself  that  if  I  have 
one  redeeming  quality  beyond  another,  it  is  just  a  suf 
ficient  stock  of  common  sense  to  enable  me  to  steer 
clear  of  all  extremes. 

"That's  precisely  my  way  of  thinking,"  rejoined  Mr. 
Kelly,  "and,  therefore,  it  is  that  I  feel  such  pleasure  in 
chatting  with  you.  Though  we  sometimes  differ,  (as 
who  do  not?)  yet  we  always  do  so  with  temper." 

"I  wish  I  could  say  as  much  for  some  other  friends  ot 
ours.  Do  you  remember  Hourgan  last  Sunday  at  the 
news-room?  What  an  ass  he  made  of  himself  about 
your  Attorney-general! 

"Come,  come/'  rejoined  Mr.  Kelly,  with  a  good-hum 
ored  smile;  "you  are  too  severe,  Flannaghan.  The  fel 
low  was  warm,  certainly;  but  then,  consider  he  had  the 
best  of  the  argument." 

"The  worst,  you  mean;  men  in  the  right  never  los 
their  temper." 

"Why,  surely,  my  good  fellow,  you  won't  pretend  to 
deny  that  Saurin  is  a  man  of  first- rate  powers  of  mind? 
Even  his  bitterest  enemies,  allow  that."  . 

"If,  for  <mmd',  you  will  substitute  'brass/  I  will  agree 
with  you  with  all  my  heart." 

"Hah!  hah!  I  love  a  joke  in  season  as  well  as  any 
one,  but  this  trifling  is  a  little  mis-tuned. 

"I  acknowledge  him,"  replied  Mr.  Flannaghan,  "to 
be  a  shrewd,  bold,  active — 

"You  are  hasty,  my  dear  sir-  take  time  and  digest 
your  thoughts.  Come,  suppose  we  replenish;"  and  so 
saying,  Mr.  Kelly  filled  his  glass,  and  handed  over  the 
ladle  to  mine  host. 

By  this  time  the  punch  was  beginning  to  tell;  seeing 
which,  I  tried  to  turn  the  conversation.  But  my  cii'orts 
were  fruitless.  The  demon  of  politics  had  taken  full 
possession  of  both  gentlemen,  who,  though  usually  shy 
of  discussing  public  matters;  yet  seemed  resolved,  on 
this  occasion,  to  make  up  for  past  reserves  by  an  inor 
dinate  exhibition  of  candor. 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  gentlemen,  cease  these  persoualK 


110  A  rOOUSH  QUAXKSX. 

tiesl    They're  unworthy  of  friends,  who,  in  their  coole* 
moments  mutually  respect  each  other,"  I  said. 

"Respect!"  thundered  Mr.  Kelly,  "what  respect  can 
I  have  for  -ne  who  has  the  assurance  to  condemn  a  man 
of  whom  he  confesses  to  know  nothing." 

"That  is  to  say  I  know  about  as  much  as  you." 

"Oh,  very  well;  I  see  there's  no  contending  with 
ignorance." 

"This  to  me,  in  my  own  house!"  exclaimed  mine  host, 
starting  up,  and  thrusting  his  chair  behind  him;  "there's 
the  door,  sir!" 

Mr.  Kelly  rose  at  the  same  moment,  and  with  equal 
heat,  while  I,  by  endeavoring  to  appease  him,  only  drew 
down  his  wrath  on  myself. 

"What  business  is  it  ol  yours '("  he  said;  "who  asked 
you  for  your  opinion,  siir'  Then,  before  I  could  re 
ply,  he  continued,  "as  for  you,  Mr.  Flannaghan,  from 
this  time  forward,  I  shall  take  care  that  we  never  ex 
change  another  syllable  together,"  and  he  rushed  from 
the  house,  banging  the  street  door  after  him  like  a 
whirlwind. 

No  sooner  was  he  gone,  than  "I  can't  help  pitying 
Kelly,  O'Blamey,"  said  Mr.  Flannaghan,  "did  you 
observe  how  foolish  he  looked?" 

I  did  not  tell  Mr.  Flannaghan  that  he  was  in  pre 
cisely  the  same  predicament;  but  passed  a  variety  of 
delicate  encomiums  on  ray  host's  singular  candor  and 
magnanimity,  which  I  could  see  gave  me  a  wonderful 
rift  in  his  good  opinion. 

Omnipotent  Flattery'    Lri.  them  say  what  they  \vi!) 
of  Caesars,  and  Napoleons,  but  thou  art  the  ou'y 
conqueror. 


FK1ZK14W  ill 


CHAPTEB  XXTV. 

NEW  FRIENDS. 

To  a  relation  by  the  na*no  of  Mahon,  Mr.  Flanna- 
ghan  made  a  point  of  introducing  me. 

Mr.  Mabon  was  a  widower  in  easy  circumstancesj 
+riih  one  only  child,  to  whom  he  was  devotedlj 
attached.  With  this  young  lady,  whose  lightest  word 
was  law  at  Bellevue  (the  namo  of  her  father's  resi 
dence),  I,  of  course,  did  my  best  to  ingratiate  myself,  in 
which  I  so  far  succeeded  that  my  visits  were  generally 
looked  forward  to  with  satisfaction;  for  Mr.  Mahon, 
whose  mind  the  untimely  death  of  his  wife  had 
touched,  but  not  soured,  with  gloom,  had  been  for 
sometime  gradually  withdrawing  himselt  trorn  society; 
and  all  the  world  knows  how  cheering,  under  such  cir 
cumstances,  <e  the  casual  dropping  in  of  a  sprightly 
accommodating  visitor,  who  has  all  the  gossip  ot  the 
neighborhood  at  his  fingers' ends,  and  is  ever  ready  tc 
be  merry  or  grave,  silent  or  talkative,  as  suits  his  host's 
humor. 

The  departure  of  Mr.  Flannaghan,  dia  not  at  all 
diminish  my  influence  at  Bellevue;  indeed,  it  served 
rather  to  strengthen  it,  for  it  made  the  inmates — 
especially  Ellen,  with  whom  solitude  had  not  yet  bocomt 
«  source  of  enjoyment — more  dependent  on  me  foi  tht: 
resources  of  an  agreeable  companionship. 

An  intimacy  soon  sprung  up  between  Ellen  and  J, 
which  increased  to  such  a  height,  that  when  ever  my 
official  duties  we're  closed  for  the  weok,  1  invariably 
hastened  over  to  the  enchanting  solitude  of  Bellevue. 

The  spot  was  indeed  a  paradise,  and  Ellen  was  its 
Eve.  This  young  creature  just  emerging  from  girl- 
bcxxl,  was  exquisitely  beautiful  in  face  and  figure;  full 
of  £*utk>  hie  *»  a  summer  wisd;  oi  a  fond  confiding 


li>  NEW 

disposition j  artless  and  playful  as  a  Lamb — L,  rxnng,  in 
fact,  wholly  made  up  of  sensibility.  Oh,  aow  different 
were  her  good  sense  and  simplicity  from  the  nordmat« 
vanity  of  my  first  v/ife,  3r  ttoe  ?tern  cold  avarice  of  rny 
second!  Neither  of  these  had  ever  engaged  aiy  affec 
tions;  the  connection  on  both  sides  originated  solely 
in  interested  motives,  but  Ellen  was  all  disinterested 
ness.  She  loved  me  for  myself  alone.  And  no  wonder,  foi 
1  am  a  handsome  fellow,  afcd  I  care  not  who  knows  it. 

Miss  Mahon  and  1  were  much  together;  yet,  strange 
to  tell,  notwithstanding  such  favorable  opportunities,  I 
.-oiild  DDt  bring  myself  to  turn  them  to  account. 
Fission  and  principle  kept  perpetually  clutching  at  my 
heartstrings  whenever  any  thing  like  an  avowal  of  love 
rosn  to  my  lips. 

Meantime,  scarce  a  day  elapsed  but  i  found  some 
excuse  or  other  for  making  my  appearance  at  tfeilevue. 
I  had  always  a  new  book  to  lend  or  to  borrow,  a  new 
political  topic  to  discuss  with  Mr.  Mahon,  or  a  new 
speech  to  read  over  to  him.  On  these  occasions,  a  bed 
was  always  at  my  service,  and,  after  dinner,  when  papa 
dropped  asleep  in  iiis  arm-chair,  Ellen  and  I  would  in 
dulge  in  a  commonplace  tete-a-tete,  or  a  more  express 
ive  silence;  for,  as  my  conscience  would  not  allow  me 
to  betray  myself  by  my  tongue,  I  had  nothing  left  for 
it  but  to  discourse  with  my  ayes. 

Sometimes,  when  the  weather  permitted,  we  would 
take  a  stroll  togetheralong  the  glsn,  or  rouna  by  some 
iojiantic  rocks.  In  the  evening  the  music-room  was 
our  usual  place  of  resort,  for  Ellen's  harp  was  always 
*:.l  hand,  and  there  was  a  certain  something  m  the 
Act  ot  tinging  and  listening  that  accorded  woudrously 
weil  with  the  inclinations  of  both  parties. 

\Vhen  the  summons  to  tea  hurried  us  from  the 
music-room,  Mr.  Mahon,  invigorated  by  his  brief  snatch 
of  sleep,  would  join  us,  and  then  politics  would  usurp 
the  p.' ace  of  sentiment,  ana  the  night  would  b«  wound 
up  by  a  game  at  chess,  or  backgammon,  m  botb  A  whicu 
fc.r.s  iioet  deiigbted,  the  more  so,  ^  i  .uv  i  t  «r 


row  rairaras, 

*  point  of  being  beaten;  with  a  nattering  show  of 
reluctance;  or  should  Mr.  Flannaghan,  which  h* 
frequently  did,  dror>  in,  we  would  engage  in  a  sober 
rubber  at  whist,  till  it  was  time  to  retire  to  bed. 

We  may  bo  singular  in  our  wisdom;  but  there  is  no 
fear  of  our  standing  atone  in  our  folly.  Even  Gibbon 
bent  the  knee  to  love;  why,  then,  should  I  hesitace  to 
plead  guilty  to  the  delicate  indictment. 

In  tnis  delicious  state  of  intoxication,  then  passed 
the  only  happy  fortnight  I  have  ever  known — a  fort 
night  of  such  full  rare  sunshine,  that  it  brought  all 
my  dormant  virtues  into  blossom.  But,  alas  1  My  sun 
had  attainrd  its  meridian,  and  was  already  journeying 
westward. 

"Well,  Q'Blarney,"  said  Mr.  Flannagnan,  calling 
unexpectedly  one  morning  at  my  lodgings,  while  I  was 
busy  making  additions  to  my  private  journal,  "any  new** 
to-day?  What  say  the  Dublin  papers  ?" 

"  Nothing  of  moment.  The  truth  is,  O'EUrney,  k 
don't  half  like  these  inflammatory  articles  of  yours. 

That  mischief-making  Kelly  is  already  talking  about 
the  necessity  of  proclaiming  the  district. 

"  Why  you  have  cooled  down  of  late  Mr.  Flanna- 
ghan,"  said  I,  with  an  arch  smile. 

"  I  have  no  longer  a  taste  for  patriotic  martyrdom. 
Besides,  Kelly,  who  is  not  without  influence  he^,  ;.s  so 
enraged  with  me  on  account  of  that  foolish  quarrel  the 
other  night — " 

"  Well,  then,  if  Kelly  still  cherishes  anger  towards 
you,  it  is  solely  because  you  were  the  means  of  making 
me  known  here.  He  has  already  been  heard  publbly 
to  declare,  that  he  will  not  rest  till  he  has  reduced  me 
to  what  he  calls  my  level." 

"  Well,  no  matter;  so  long  as  you  keep  within  the 
limits  of  discretion.  I  do  not  ask  you  to  cry  enough, 
but  simply  to  take  care. 

But  I  am  forgetting  the  object  of  my  visit,  which  was 
to  ask  you,  as  1  suppose  you  have  finished  your  labor 
for  the  week,  to  accompany  me  over  to  BeUevue. 


114  STEW   FRIENDS. 

"  Nothing  will  give  me  greater  pleasure,"  I  replied 

Then  let  us  be  off  at  once;  for  the  weather  at  this 
season  of  the  year  is  not  to  he  dependent  upon  from  one 
moment  to  another,"  and  he  hurried  me  from  the  room, 
with  such  extreme  impatience  that  in  the  haste  and 
confusion  of  the  moment  I  left  my  MS  journal  open  on 
my  desk. 

When  \ve  reached  Bellevue,  we  found  Mr.  Mahon 
bird  at  work  in  his  garden,  and  Ellen  with  her  bonnet 
on,  just  preparing  to  go  out.  Leaving  the  two  gentle 
men  together,  I  offered  my  services  as  an  escort  to  Miss 
Mahon,  which  she  readily  accepted,  and  we  wandered 
away  for  two  or  three  hours. 

Jn  the  course  of  the  evening  Mr.  Flannaghan  and  hia 
host  sat  down  to  their  wonted  game  of  backgammon' 
while  Ellen  and  myself  flew  off  to  the  piano. 

Among  the  airs,  "Has  Sorrow  Thy  Young  Days 
Shaded  ?"  particularly  caught  my  fancy;  whereupon 
Ellen  sung  it  for  me  with  a  sweetness  and  simplicity 
that  1  have  never  heard  surpassed — rarely  equalled. 

When  she  had  finished  sinking,  "  Miss  Mahon,"  said 
I,  "you  are  fast  spoiling  me  tor  my  duties,  by  bidding 
me  lose  all  sense  of  public  injury  in  that  of  private 
happiness. 

••  Oh!'  she  replied,  laughingly,  "if  you  are  to  be  di 
verted  from  your  path  by  every  will-o'-the-wisp  that 
may  happen  to  flit  across  it,  there  is  little  left  in  you 
for  me  to  spoil.  But,  tell  me,  what  do  you  think  of 
this  last  ballad  of  Moore's? 

fi  Though  tender  and  plaintive,  it  is  too  monotonous. 
I  am  loathe  to  speak  against  Moore;  yet  you  must 
allow,  Miss  Mahon,  that,  as  a  national  poet,  he  has 
defects,  and  great  ones  too?" 

"Indeed;  but  I  will  allow  no  such  thing." 

"  What  is  all  this  you  are  talking  about?"  said  Mr. 
Flannaghan,  rising  up  from  the  game  which  he  had  just 
finished,  and  advancing  towards  us. 

"Oh,  nothing  of  consequence,  sir,*'  replied  Ellen; 
M  we  were  merely  chatting  about  Moore." 


AJ9    UNEXPECTED   VISITOR.  115 

"  So  I  could  have  sworn.  Whenever  two  or  three 
jroung  folks  are  clustered  together  about  a  piano,  Moore 
is  always  sure  to  be  the  theme  oi  their  discourse. 

But  come,  we  must  be  going,  O'Blarney;  it's  later 
than  I  supposed;"  and  accordingly  we  took  leave  of  our 
hosts,  and  returned  together  to  Ballinabrogue. 


CHAPTE&  XXV. 

A>?   UNEXPECTED  VISITOR. 

When  I  reached  my  room,  the  first  thing  I  learned 
from  the  servant  who  sat  up  to  let  me  in  was,  that  a 
lady  had  called  who  refused  to  give  her  name;  but, 
mentioning  that  she  was  an  old  acquaintance,  had  re 
quested  to  be  shown  up-stairs,  where  she  remained  full 
naif  an  hour,  till  finding  that  I  did  not  return,  -she  de 
parted,  leaving  word  that  she  would  take  an  early  op 
portunity  of  repeating  her  visit. 

Concluding,  from  the  servant's  description  of  the 
strange  female,  that  she  was  Mr.  J  lannaghan's  maiden 
Gister,  who  now  and  then  did  me  the  honor  of  a  visit; 
but  whom  my  informant  had  not  yet  seen,  I  took  no 
further  notice  of  the  circumstance,  but  burned  to  bed. 

(Xe  tine  evening,  after  an  early  dinner,  Mr.  Mabon. 
who  chanced  to  be  in  better  spirits  than  u^ual,  accurn- 
panied  Ellen  and  myself  in  one  of  our  favorite  strolls. 
Our  road,  selected  oy  him,  lay  through  a  narrow  rocky 
p*iss,  which  opened,  at  the  distance  ot  about  a  quartei  • 
of  a  mile,  upon  a  tolerably  expansive  valley,  which  wa." 
closed  in  on  every  side  by  ranges  of  sloping  hills. 

The  pass  was  one  that  would  have  done  credit  even 
to  the  Highlands.  It  was  narrow,  deep  sunk,  and 
walled  in  on  both  sides  by  a  rampart  of  rocks. 

When  we  reached  this  romantic  spot,  which  was  ren 
dered  still  more  impressive  t>y  the  fitful  shadows  of 
evening,  Mr.  Mabou  halted,  and  turning  round  to  me 


116  A3    UNEXPECTED   VTSITOB. 

(foi  T  was  close  behind  him,  with  Ellen  leaning  on  rny 
arm),  said,  "Ellen  will  tell  you  that  this  is  a  <lui;  MI- 
social  spot,  fit  only  to  inspire  abhorrence." 

"  And  indeed  so  it  is,  papa,"  replied  the  lively  girt, 
"  What  a  gloom  these  frowning  rocks  fling  down  upon 
us!  JSo  bird  ever  sings  here,  for  the  poor  thing  would 
be  startled  at  the  sound  of  ite  own  voice.  Pray  let  us 
hasten  on  to  the  valley. 

"  But  listen,  Miss  Ellen,  your  old  friend  the  night-owl 
i*  beginning  his  song  again,"  I  observed. 

"  Aly  friend!  No,  uo,  he  is  too  dismal  a  songster  for 
me.  Owls  are  fit  only  to  be  listened  to  by  grave  phil 
osophers,  or  crabbed  politicians,  or  gentlemen  who 
have  no  ear  for  the  melody  of  Moore's  verses.  Now, 
don't  look  so  cross;  you  know  it  is  quite  impossible  I 
can  mean  you." 

Thus  chatting,  we  mended  our  pace,  and  soon 
reached  the  extremity  of  the  pass.  Ellen  insisted  on 
toy  admiring  the  various  beauties  of  the  valley.  Mr. 
Mahon  proposed  a  return  home,  lor  a  brisk  wind  nurried 
before  it  such  heavy  masses  of  clouds  as  betokened  an 
inclement  night. 

Accordingly,  I  drew  Ellen's  arm  closer  within  mine, 
while  her  father  preceded  us  by  a  few  yards;  and,  led 
•i>n  by  the  enchanting  frankness  and  familiarity  of  her 
mariner,  which  had  been  gradually  assuming  a  more 
flattering  character  towards  me — forgetting,  also,  in 
the  impulse  of  the  moment,  all  my  virtuous  resolves — 
I  seized  the  favorable  opportunity,  at  once  avowed 
ny  love,  and — but  why  dwell  on  the  painful  topic? 
Suffice  it  to  say,  that  the  trembling  arm  of  the  gentle 
listener — the  half-averted  face,  and  low,  deprecating 
voice,  struggling  to  conceal  what  the  heart  toe 
strongly  felt,  convinced  me  that  I  had  not  pleaded  m  vain. 

No  sooner  had  my  declaration  escaped  me,  and  Ellnn 
some  indistinct  words  of  reply,  than,  aa  if 
awakened  to  the  embarrassment  of  bci 
she  insisted  on  my  joining  her  fathar 
wi  made  the  best  of  o»ur  way  h*ck 


AN  UNEXPECTED  VISITOR.  117 

towards  the  pass,  where  Mr.  Mahon  stool  wm'ting  for 
us,  when,  just  as  wo  had  reached  its  dark  rocky  portal, 
we  were  startled  by  the  sound  of  footsteps,  and, 
at  the  same  instant,  a  female  figure  of  most  for 
bidding  aspect,  started  up  right  before  our  path. 

I  know  not  why  it  was,  but  my  spirits  sunk  as  I 
beheld  this  intruder,  who,  fixing  her  eyes  full  on  me, 
as  if  she  would  have  blasted  me  with  their  lightning 
glance,  disclosed  the  countenance  of  my  first  wife, 
Catharine — that  wife  whom  I  had  quarrelled  with,  and 
quitted, — my  first  love. 

From  the  expression  of  my  wife's  countenance,  1 
saw  at  once  that  I  was  recognized;  nothing,  therefore, 
I  felt  persuaded,  was  to  be  done,  but  to  make  up  my 
mind  for  a  scene;  so,  summoning  my  utmost  presence 
of  mind,  I  addressed  myself  to  Mr.  Mahon: — "I  think 
we  had  better  hasten  on,  the  sky  looks  threatening, 
and  if  we  loiter  here,  we  may  be  caught  in  a  storm." 

"You  are  right;  but  stay,  let  us  hear  what  this 
stranger  has  to  say  for  herself. 

"Oh!  yes,  she  is  a  poor  maniac,"  I  replied,  catching 
p.t  the  first  wild  random  idea  that  crossed  my  brain,  as 
a  drowning  man  catches  at  a  straw,  «'whom  I  have  met 
occasionally  in  my  walks  from  Ballinabro^ue  to  Bclle- 
vue,  and  who,  because  I  have  relieved  ner  once  or 
twice,  and  thereby  established  a  sort  of  claim  on  her 
attention,  imagines,  unhappy  creature!  that  we  aro 
bound  together.  Would  you  believe  it,  sir!"  1  added, 
in  the  same  under-tone,  "she  has  actually  got  a  strange 
whim  into  her  head  that  I  am  her  husband!  Ver) 
ridiculous,  isn't  it?" 

But  my  wife,  who  had  hitherto  stood  at  a  shgb\ 
distance,  with  all  her  jealous  feelings  aroused  into  action 
by  the  sight  of  Ellen's  youthful  countenance  ami 
figure,  was  resolved  I  should  not  escape  exposure;  so. 
planting  herself  right  before  Mr.  Mahon,  she  exclaimed, 
"But  one  word,  sir — but  one  word,  as — " 

"Poor  tiling!"  said  Mr.  MaLon,  waving  her  from  the 
path,  anil  &t  the  same  time  preparii^j  to  move  on. 


113  AN  UNEXPECTED  VISITOR. 

"I  do  not  ask  your  pity,  sir,"  she  replied,  "1 
ask  only  your  justice.  Hear  me,  Mr.  Manon;  not 
one  inch  will  I  stir  from  this  spot  until  I  have  exposed 
the  real  character  of  that  man  who  stands  beside  you." 

"Catharine,"  said  I,  letting  go  Ellen's  arm,  and 
advancing  close  up  to  my  wife,  "if  you  have  been 
wronged,  roly  on  it  1  will  see  you  righted." 

"Righted!  yes,  when  disgrace  and  ruin— 

"Hush!  Catharine,  not  so  loud.  Why  should  we 
expose  our  domestic  differences  to  strangers?  For 
give  but  the  past,  and  anything — every  thing  you 
may  demand,  I  will  at  once  agree  to.  Come,  let 
us  be  friends.  Has  Juliet  so  soon  forgotten  Romeo?" 

"Friends!"  she  replied,  with  a  loud  voice  and  flash 
ing  eye,  "yes,  when  ruin  stares  you  in  the  -face,  then 
from  every  apprehension  you  will  do  me  justice.  But 
mark  me,  sir!  I  seek  other  justice  than  you  can 
afford  to  bestow.  Mr.  Mahon,"  she  added,  turning  to 
that  gentleman,  whose  suspicions  began  to  be  aroused, 
"that  man  whom  you  have  so  prematurely  called  your 
friend,  was — nay,  is  still,  my  husband!" 

Ellen  here  earnestly  besought  her  father  to  proceed, 
which  drew  down  on  her  a  cutting  reproach  from  my 
wife;  till,  finding  that  Mr.  Mahon  seemed  disposed  to. 
lend  a  favorable  ear  to  whatever  explanation  she  might 
have  to  offer,  she  somewhat  softened  her  tone,  and 
proceeded  to  detail  the  history  of  her  first  acquaintance 
.vith  me — of  our  subsequent  marriage  and  departure 
for  the  Continent;  of  the  frequent  altercations  that  had 
taken  place  between  us  at  Xaples — in  every  one  of 
which  I,  of  course,  was  represented  as  the  sole  party 
in  fault;  of  my  abandonment  of  her,  and  her  own 
consequent  return  to  Mollyrnoreen,  where  she  found 
Mr.  O'Brien  at  the  last  gasp;  and  of  the  solemn  vow 
she  had  made  to  apply  what  sums  remained  to  her 
from  the  wreck  of  his  fortune  in  exploring  every 
quarter  of  Ireland,  for  the  purpose  of  discovering  and 
denouncing  me. 

Bearing  in  mind  the  profession  to  which  I  originally 


.FOUND   -AT  LAST.  119 

belonged,  and  thinking  it  far  from  unlikely  that  neces 
sity  might  have  compelled  me  to  resume  it,  she  made 
a  point,  at  every  town  she  visited,  of  first  directing  her 
attention  to  the  theater.  But  all  her  inquiries  were 
fruitless;  not  a  single  manager,  of  the  number  to  whom 
she  applied,  could  give  her  the  slightest  information 
of  my  "whereabouts." 

Vexed  at  her  ill-luck,  she  returned  to  Mollymoreen, 
where  she  lived  for  some  time  secluded,  a  prey  to 
chagrin;  when  one  day,  as  she  was  passing  by  the 
theater,  she  suddenly  encountered  an  individual,  whose 
features,  she  imagined,  were  not  altogether  unknown 
to  her.  The  stranger  seemed  equally  surprised  at  so 
unexpected  an  encounter,  and  addressing  her  by  the 
name  of  Fitzgerald,  made  himself  know  to  her  as  the 
actor  who  had  been  the  main  instrument  in  forwarding 
her  marriage  with  me. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

FOUND   AT   LAST. 

This  led  to  further  inquiries,  when  the  fellow — of 
course,  unacquainted  with  all  the  circumstances  of  our 
subsequent  estrangement — frankly  informed  her  that 
he  had  seen  her  husband  but  a  short  time  before,  in  one 
of  the  boxes  of  the  theater  at  Ballinabrogue! 

"  From  this  moment,"  said  she,  "  I  felt  inspired  with 
new  life;  the  certainty  that  I  had,  at  length,  revenge 
within  my  grasp  gave  me  the  first  sensation  of  joy  that 
I  had  known  since  I  quitted  Naples;  and,  hurrying 
without  an  hour's  delay  to  Ballinabrogue,  I  laid  my 
whole  case  before  a  magistrate,  by  name  Kelly — " 

"Kelly  !"  said  I,  unable  longer  to  control  my  agita 
tion. 

"Yes,  Kelly,"  resumed  my  wife;  "and at  his  express 
instigation,  I  took  the  opportunity  of  this  wretch's 


1?'-  ,  FOUND   AT   LAST. 

absence  to  rail  a  few  da}^  since  at  his  lodgings,  and  there 
make  such  inquiries  as  I  thought  might  tend  to  substan 
tiate  my  case;  nay,  even  to  possess  myself  of  certain  docu 
ments  which  proved,  not  only  that  he  was  my  husband, 
but  the  husband  also  of  another  woman  in  South  Wales." 

By  this  time,  I  could  not  but  see  that  all  was  over. 
My  wife,  it  was  clear,  had  perused  my  journal,  which,  on 
that  disastrous  morning,  in  my  hurry  to  accompany  Mr. 
Flannaghan  to  Bellevue,  I  had  indeed  left  open  on  my 
desk. 

"  Mark  me,  sir,"  she  went  on  to  say,  "  your  hour  is 
come!  A  letter  has  been  despatched;  ay,  and  an  answer 
returned  too,  which  proves  your  guilt  beyond  all 
question.  Moreover,"  she  added — waving  her  hand  to 
some  figures,  who  now,  for  the  first  time,  I  perceived 
had  been  watching  all  our  movements  in  the  distance — 
"  here  come  those  who  wilt  conduct  you  back  to  Ballin- 
abrogue,  as  such  a  wretch  deserves  to  be  conducted." 

It  was  but  too  true.  To  the  astonishment  of  Mr. 
Mahon,  his  daughter's  affright,  and  my  extreme  dis 
gust,  three  policemen,  who  must  have  been  purposely 
concealed  in  the  neighborhood,  no  sooner  saw  the  sig 
nal,  than,  before  I  had  time  to  arrange  my  thoughts, 
they  rushed  up  and  secured  me  without  opposition. 
1  resolved  to  venture  on  one  final  appeal  to  Mr.  Mahon. 
But  that  gentleman  was  far  too  indignant  to  hear  a 
wore!;  and,  drawing  his  daughter's  arm,  who  was  nearly 
fainting,  poor  girl,  hastily  through  his,  left  me  to  the 
custody  of  the  policemen;  who,  on  our  road  back  to  Bal- 
li  nab  rogue,  informed  me,  at  my  particular  request,  of 
a  1 1  the  circumstances  attending  my  detection.  It  seemed 
Mrs.  Fitzmaurice  oxpressed  no  unwillingness  to  bear 
evidence  against  me,  provided  she  could  be  assured  of 
reimbursement  for  traveling  expenses,  etc. 

As  I  listened  to  this  statement,  a  gleam  of  hope  shot 
athwart  my  soul.  If  my  wife,  thought  I,  refuse  to  come 
over,  the  main  link  of  evidence  will  be  wanting.  But, 
alas'  Mr.  Kelly  volunteered  to  satisfy  her  demands. 


UNPLEASANT  RESULTS.  121 


CHAPTER  XXVH 

UNPLEASANT  RESULTS. 

A  month  had  now  elapsed  since  the  events  detailed 
in  the  last  chapter,  during  which  time  scarce  a  day 
passed  but  I  was  busy  in  consultation  with  my  attorney. 

As  this  person  entered  into  my  case  with  remarkable 
zeal,  in  the  hope  of  gaining  eclat  by  my  acquittal,  I  was 
not  without  hopes  of  a  favorite  result;  "in  which  case," 
saidjl,  "so  far  from  doing  me  injury,  my  trial  may  actually 
be  productive  of  good;  for  my  countrymen,  who  cannot 
but  see  that  political  motives  have  been  at  the  bottom 
of  it,  will,  no  doubt,  bear  in  mind  that  I  am  a  sufferer 
in  their  cause,  and  recompense  me  for  my  sufferings  by 
a  handsome  public  subscription." 

This  idea  kept  up  my  spirits  during  the  protracted 
term  of  my  imprisonment. 

The  second  day  was  the  one  appointed  for  my  trial, 
the  particulars  of  which,  I  shall  take  simply  as  I  find 
them  reported  in  the  columns  of  my  own  journal. 
Strange  that  the  very  paper  which  had  so  long  borne 
testimony  to  my  patriotism,  should  be  the  very  one  to 
chronicle  my  disgrace ! 

"FrrzMAURiCE  vs.  O'BLARNEY — This  long  expected 
trial  came  on  this  morning.  From  an  early  hour  the 
court  was  crowded  to  excess;  in  one  corner  of  the 
court,  close  behind  the  jury-box,  we,  ourselves,  counted 
not  less  than  six  individuals  whose  united  ages 
amounted  to  upwards  of  four  hundred  and  fifteen  years! 

"The  learned  judge  took  his  seat  on  the  bench  pre 
cisely  at  eleven  o'clock,  when  the  prisoner,  O'Blarney, 
was  ordered  to  be  placed  at  the  bar.  The  appearance 
of  this  young  man  is  remarkably  prepossessing.  He  is 
of  middle  size,  and  well  proportioned  with  a  face  full 
of  intelligence  and  sensibility.  Tiare  is  nothing  io 


122  UNPLEASANT   RESULTS. 

his  look  or  manner  to  denote  the  criminal;  indeed, 
there  is  an  air  of  bashfulness  about  him.  He  was 
dressed  in  deep  mourning,  with  a  small  shamrock  sprig1 
in  his  waistcoat  button-hole,  just  above  his  heart — a 
modest  and  unassuming  trait  of  patriotism,whieh  seemed 
to  produce  quite  a  pathetic  effect. 

Each  of  the  jury  having  been  duly  sworn,  Mr.  Sheilly 
opened  the  case  in  the  following  energetic  speech, 

"  '  May  it  please  your  lordship, — Gentlemen  of  the 
jury, — Never  in  the  discharge  of  my  professional 
avocations  did  I  rise  with  such  painful  feelings  of 
embarrassment  as  oppress  me  on  the  present  awful 
occasion.  I  have  heard  that  no  noxious  insect  can 
thrive  in  the  consecrated  soil  of  Erin.  Alas  1  the 
sweltering  reptile  at  the  bar  proves  the  fact  a  fiction. 
With  these  few  remarks,  wrung  from  me  in  the  agony 
of  my  spirit,  I  proceed  to  lay  before  you  the  particulars 
of  this  heart-rending  case.  The  plaintiff  is  a  young 
lady  of  Mollymoreen,  who  resided,  up  to  the  period  of 
her  inauspicious  nuptials,  with  a  venerable  and  univer 
sally  adored  uncle.  The  name  of  this  estimable 
individual  was  O'Brien,  and  his  niece  bore  the  same 
patronymic.  She  was  a  lady  of  the  highest  accomplish" 
ments — the  most  consummate  beauty — simple,  unso 
phisticated  and  twenty-six — slim,  susceptible,  and  a 
spinster.  In  an  evil  hour,  however,  when  her  guardian 
genius  slumbered  at  his  post,  it  was  her  fate  to  descry, 
through  an  opera-glass  from  the  dress-boxes  of  the 
Mollymoreen  theater,  the  unparalleled  prisoner  at  the 
bar.  His  person  filled  her  with  admiration,  and  he  re 
ciprocated  the  sentiment.  But,  alas  !  his  love  was  not 
the  inspiration  of  Cupid,  but  of  Mammon.  He  fixed  a 
fond  gaze,  not  on  the  plaintiff's  person,  but  on  her 
purse.  The  plaintiff's  guardian  with  the  wary  sagacity 
of  age,  soon  fathomed  the  nature  of  the  defendant's 
attachment.  But  his  discovery  was  made  too  late '. 
Finding  this  to  be  the  case,  Mr.  O'Brien  had  no  other 
alternative  left,  than  to  sob  forth  a  reluctant  consent 
to  tiie  nuptials. 


UNPLEASANT  RESULTS.  123 

"'Gentlemen,'  continued  Mr.  Sheilly,  'I  shall  now 
proceed  without  further  comment,  to  the  details  of  the 
prisoner's  second  marriage.  This  took  place  at  Lland- 
warrys,  in  South  Wales.  The  unoffending  victim,  was 
a  lovely,  intelligent  widow,  universally  respected  by  all 
who  had  the  honor  of  her  acquaintance.  Oh,  that 
sorrow  should  have  spared  the  infant  bud,  only  to  blight 
the  full-blown  blossom!  Of  the  prisoner's  two  victims, 
I  scarce  know  which  most  deserves  your  commiseration. 
The  one  was  green  and  sportive  spring;  the  other,  the 
mellow  and  voluptuous  autumn.  But  the  defendant 
gave  the  perference  to  neither. 

"  'Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  you  are  fathers — you  are 
husbands — you  are  men — your  are  Christians — and,  by 
these  sacred  titles,  I  implore  you  to  mark  your  sense 
of  the  prisoner's  attrocity  by  a  verdict  which  shall 
brand  him,  like  Cain,  with  the  stamp  of  imperishable 
infamy. 

The  learned  gentleman  sat  down  amid  the  most 
vociferous  acclamations  from  all  parts  of  the  court, 
which  were  so  long  continued  as  to  awaken  the  vener 
able  judge,  who  rubbing  his  eyes,  and  looking  angrily 
about  him,  in  the  direction  of  the  jury-box,  exclaimed, 
'Officer  of  the  court,  wake  the  foreman  of  the  jury!' 
after  which  the  certificates  of  both  marriages  were  put 
in,  and  Mr.  Sheilly  proceeded  to  call  witnesses  in 
corroboratio n  of  his  statements,  who  were  subjected  to 
a  rigid  cross-examination. 

When  the  case  for  the  prosecution  had  closed,  my 
counsel  arose  for  the  defence.  The  following  is  as  cor 
rect  a  report  as  we  could  give  of  the  learned  gentle 
man's  speech,  considering  that  he  was  inaudible  at 
times,  owing  to  the  great  confusion  that  prevailed 
throughout  the  court : — 

"  '  May  it  please  your  lordship, — Gentlemen  of  the 
jury, — I  am  well  aware  that  to  a  certain  extent  judge 
ment  must  pass  against  my  client.  I  mean  not  to  deny 
the  fact  of  his  first,  nor  yet  of  his  second,  marriage; 
but  this  I  will  maintain,  tLat  notwithstanding  the 


124  FAREWELL!  A  LONG  FAREWELL. 

eloquent  vituperation  of  my  learned  friend,  the  evi 
dence  you  have  this  day  heard  proves  that  defendant 
has  been  far  "more  sinned  against  than  sinning."  In 
considering  your  verdict,  gentlemen,  I  trust  you  will 
take  this  fact  into  your  consideration.  Besides,  do  not 
let  it  escape  your  attention,  that  this  prosecution  has 
at  least  as  much  to  do  with  politics  as  justice.  The 
magistrate  Kelly,  who  takes  such  extraordinary  pains 
to  promote  it,  does  so  solely  for  political  reasons.  Oh, 
my  beloved  countrymen,  when  shall  we  be  free  from 
this  galling  chain?  Where  is  there  a  lovelier  climate? 
Oh,  it  galls  me  to  the  quick,  to  think  that  where  God 
has  been  so  bountiful,  man  has  been  so  base!  We  were 
designed  to  be  a  nation — we  were  designed  to  be  happy 
— we  are  miserable. 

"'Gentlemen,  I  repeat  my   former  statement,   this 
prosecution  is  almost  wholly  political. 

"VYhen   the  learned  gentleman  had  concluded,  the 

venerable  judge  commenced  summing  up  the  evidence; 

after  which,   the  jury  returned  a  verdict  of  'guilty:' 

whereupon    his    lordship   sentenced  the   prisoner    to 

transportation  for  life. 


CHAPTER  XXVLTL 

* 'FARE  WELL!  A  LONG  FAREWELL!" 

My  narrative  now  draws  to  a  close.  After  my  trial 
J  was  conveyed  back  to  prison. 

The  Mahons  had  blotted  me  out  of  their  recollec 
tion,  and  even  Mr.  Flaunaghan  had  abandoned  me  to  my 
fate.  The  very  peasantry,  of  whom  I  had  so  lately  been 
the  idol,  treated  me  with  equal  indifference.  Such  is 
popularity! 

On  the  evening  of  the  second  day  after  my  trial,  as  I 
was  seated  in  my  cell,  companioned  onlv  by  my  cheer 
less  thoughts,  a  letter  was  delivered  to  rae  by  the 


FAllEWELL  !  A  LONG   FAltEWELL.  125 

jailor.  I  saw  that  it  was  in  the  handwriting  of  my 
first  wife;  and  concluding,  that  it  might  bo  of  a  forgiv 
ing  character,  I  hastily  broke  it  open;  but  judge  of 
my  astonishment  when  I  found  that  it  consisted  of 
only  this  one  sentence! — 

"You  once  called  me  old — you  were  right,  I  am  old 
— far  too  old  ever  to  hope  to  live  long  enough  to  wel 
come  your  return  from  transportation ! 

"CATHARINE." 

Oh,  woman,  woman!  what  a  mystery  is  that  heart  of 
thine!  One  was  enough  to  set  all  Troy  in  flames;  can 
T  wonder,  then,  that  two  have  been  my  ruin?  Who 
could  have  believed  it  possible  that  a  sneer,  thrown 
out  in  a  hasty,  thoughtless  moment,  should  lead  to 
such  disastrous  results  ?  Well,  never  again  will  I  ven 
ture  to  call  a  woman  old.  Henceforth,  she  shall  bloom 
an  evergreen  in  my  speech." 

Scarcely  had  I  recovered  from  the  astonishment  into 
which  the  perusal  of  this  vindictive  communication  had 
thrown  me,  when  the  door  of  my  cell  was  again  un 
locked,  and  the  jailor  entered,  with  the  information 
that  a  lady  was  waiting  without,  who  expressed  a  wish 
to  be  admitted  into  my  presence.  Pausing  for  a  mo 
ment,  I  said,  "I  can  guess  who  is  the  applicant,  so 
show  her  in;  she  can  not  possibly  treat  me  worse  than 
her  predecessor." 

The  man  accordingly  quitted  the  room,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  returned,  leading  in  my  second  wife,  Mrs. 
Fitzmaurice.  I  rose  to  greet  her;  Oh,  Mr.  Fitz — 
O'Blarney,  how  could  you  have  the  heart  to  use  me  so? 
Such  a  wife  as  I  always  was  to  you  !  And  to  think  you 
would  run  away  and  leave  me  with  a  horrid  Irish  name 
that  does  not  belong  to  either  of  us!" 

"If  you  felt  so  much  for  me  as  you  say,  why  did  you 
appear  against  me?" 

"Because  my  brother  and  all  Llandwarrys  insisted 
on  it  I  was  told  that  it  was  the  only  way  I  could  clear 
my  character  in  the  eyes  of  the  world. 

The  attorney,  too,  kept  constantly  telling  me  that  if 


136       FAREWELL  1  A  LONQ  FAREWELL. 

I  did  not  come  over,  the  law  would  compel  me  to  do  so. 
In  fact,  the  whole  town  cried  shame  on  you!  with 
the  exception  of  the  undertaker,  who  always  stood  your 
friend.  But  I  think  I  can  partly  guess  the  reason  of 
that." 

"  Pray,  come  to  the  point,  and  tell  me  the  object  of 
this  visit." 

"  AY^ell,  then,"  rejoined  my  wife,  drawing  a  small 
Bible  from  her  pocket,  and  placing  it  in  my  hands, 
"though  I  know  you  think  I  have  come  to  upbraid 
you — yet,  believe  me,  I  came  here  with  the  kindest 
intentions — merely  to  present  you  with  this  volume, 
in  the  hope  that  it  may  be  the  means  of  bringing  you  to 
a  proper  sense  of  your  condition.  You  will  do  me  the 
justice  to  remember  that  I  always  prophesied  ycur  ruin. 
Oh,  dear !  oh,  dear !  To  think  that  a  woman  at  my  time 
of  life  should  be  so  situated  as  scarcely  even  to  know 
her  own  name  !  In  this  strain,  Mrs.  Fitzmaurice  con 
tinued  for  the  best  part  of  half  an  hour,  when  our  con 
ference  was  terminated  by  the  ringing  of  the  prison- 
bell,  which  was  the  signal  for  the  departure  of  all  visit 
ors,  and  the  locking-up  of  the  jail. 

She  moved  towards  me  for  the  purpose  of  bidding  me 
farewell;  I  could  see  her  hand  shake,  and  her  counte 
nance  visibly  alter.  She  struggled  to  conceal  her  feel 
ings;  but  the  effort  was  beyond  her  power.  I  could  see 
tears — real  tears — rolling  down  her  cheeks.  I  tried  to 
speak,  but  could  not;  so  there  I  stood,  rooted  to  the 
floor,  with  my  wife's  cold  hand  fast  locked  in  mine. 

"Come,  come,"  said  the  jailor,  "  this  will  never  do. 
I  am  sorry  for  the  poor  woman,  but  she  must  turn  out. 
It's  as  good  as  my  place  is  worth,  to  let  her  remain  here 
after  lock-up  hours." 

"  Good-by,  then,"  said  my  wife,  "  God  bless  you,  I 
forgive  you  from  the  very  bottom  of  my  heart;"  and  so 
saying,  she  hurried  towards  the  door;  but  just  as  she 
reached  it,  stopped,  turned  once  more  round,  then  tore 
herself  away,  and  the  door  closed  on  her  forever. 
It  was  on  a  charming  summer  morning,  that  the  most 


FAREWELL  1  A  LONG  FAREWELL,         127 

aggrieved  patriot  that  ever  quitted  the  Irish  shores 
stepped  on  board  the  vessel  that  was  to  waft  him  to  a 
new  world.  "Oh,  Erin!"  I  exclaimed,  I  have  sacri 
ficed  my  all  in  your  behalf;  and  I  am  rewarded  with 
banishment.  Had  I  acquired  titles,  or  heaped  up 
riches,  you  might  justly  have  distrusted  my  zeal;  but 
I  have  neither  pension  nor  peerage;  nay,  I  quit  your 
service  poorer  than  when  I  entered  on  it.  Such  was 
ever  the  patriot's  lot !  Belisarius  begged  his  bread, 
and  I  am  driven  forth  to  herd  with  the  kangaroos  of 
Australia!  But  bashfulness  first  sowed  the  seeds  of  my 
ruin,  and  patriotism  has  since  reaped  the  harvest.  Ye, 
whom  I  may  perchance  have  wronged,  be  content;  ye 
have  now  an  ample  revenge.  Ye,  who  have  unques 
tionably  wronged  me,  be  content  also;  from  my  inmost 
soul  I  forgive  you." 

Just  as  I  concluded  this  touching  soliloquy,  I  cast  my 
eyes  toward  the  shores  of  my  native  land,  and  I  felt 
that  I  had  seen  green  Erin  for  the  last  time. 

The  "  Bashful  Irishman  "  is  concluded;  and  the  auto- 
biographer  himself,  his  task  accomplished,  vanishes  into 
thin  air.  I  am  now  happy  as  possible  for  one  to  be 
under  my  present  difficulties  and  can  only  advise  all 
people  to  overcome  their  bashfulness,  if  they  CMJ. 


List  of    Rooks    In    THE    FAVORITE    EDITION. 
\vitli   tills  Book.      Sold  by  all  Dealers. 


Uniform 


No. 

1.  At  War  with  Herself.  Dora  Thorne. 

2.  Allan  Quartermain.    Haggard. 

8.  Ac  Bay.    Alexander.          [Albums. 

4.  Album     Verses     for     Autograph 

5.  Adventures  of  an  Old  Maid,  (ireene. 

6.  Adventures  of  a  Bashful  Irishman. 
T.  As  in  a  Looking-Glass.    Philips. 

8.  Bound  by  a  Spell.    Conway. 

9.  By  Woman's  Wit.    Mrs.  Alexander. 

10.  Beaton's  Bargain.  Mrs.  Alexander. 

11.  Battle  for  Bread.    Talmage. 

12.  Broken  Heart,  A.    Dora  Thorne. 

13.  Bad  Boy  at  Home,  The.    Gray. 

14.  Bad  Boy  Abroad,  The.    Gray. 

15.  Bad  Boy  and  his  Sister. 

16.  Buffalo  Bill.    Ned  Buntline. 

17.  Brother  against  Brother.    Mustek. 
IS.  Beyond  Pardon.     Dora  Thorne. 

19.  Bright  Wedding  Day.  Dora  Thorne. 

20.  Broken  Wedding  Ring. 

21.  Crimson  Stain.    Bradshaw. 

22.  Bede's  Charity.    Stretton. 

23.  Called  Back.    Comvay. 

24.  Circumstantial  Evidence.  Conway. 

25.  Cardinal  Sin,  A.    Conway. 

26.  Cobwebs  and  Cables.    Stretton. 

27.  Dark  Days.    Conway. 

28.  Dawn.     Haggard. 

29.  Duchess,  The.    '•  The  Duchess." 

80.  Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde. 

81.  Detective  Trio,  The.    Taylor. 
32.  Dark  Marriage  Morn,  A. 

S3.  Dora  Thorne.    Brame. 
34.  Drops  of  Blood.    Curry. 
85.  Donald  Dyke,  the  Detective. 

36.  Dangerous  Marriage,  A.  Fothergill. 

37.  Eureka  Recitations.    1st  Series. 

88.  Eureka  Recitations.    2d  Series. 

89.  EastLynne.     Wood. 

40.  Ed.  Sommers,  the  Detective. 

41.  False  Vow,  The.    Dora  Thorne. 

42.  File  No.  115.    A  Detective  Story. 

43.  From  Out  the  Gloom. 

44   Fatal  Wedding,  A.    Dora  Thorne. 

45.  Fallen  Idol,  A.    Anstey. 

46.  Family  Affair,  A.    Conway. 

47.  Fun  for  All.    Greenway. 

48.  Good  News.    By  Jones  and  Small. 

49.  Gipsy  Blair,  the  Detective. 

50.  Garfleld,  Life  and  Death  of  J.  A. 

51.  Guilty  River,  A.     Collins. 

62.  Hilda's  Lover.     Dora  Thorne. 

53.  House  Party.     "Ouicla." 

54.  Harry  Pinkerton,  the  Detective. 

55.  Her  Martyrdom.     Dora  Thorne. 

56.  Her  Marriage  Vow.    Dora  Thorne. 

57.  Her  Second  Love.    Dora  Thorne. 

58.  Haunted  Chamber. "The  Duchess." 

59.  History  of  the  U.  S.    Childs. 

60.  Hand-Book  of  Information. 
81.  In  Thraldom.    Mead. 

$2.  In  Prison  and  Out.    Stretton. 

63.  Joyful  Tidings.     Jones  and  Small. 

64.  Jess.    Haggard. 

J.   S.   OGILVIE 
67   Rose   Street,  New   York; 


No. 

65.  Janet's  Repentance.    Eliot. 
CO.  King  Solomon's  Mines.    Haggard. 

67.  Lady  Valworth's  Diamonds. 

68.  Lost  and  Found.    Elmore. 

69.  Love's  Conflict.     Dora  Thorn*. 

70.  Luke  Darby,  the  Detective. 

71.  Lord's  Purse-Bearer,  The. 

72.  Living  or  Dead.    Conway. 

73.  Mental  Struggle,  A. 

74.  Mrs.  Hopkins  on  Her  Travels. 

75.  Mohawks.     Braddon. 

76.  Miss  Jones' Quilting. 

77.  Merry  Men,  The.    Stevenson. 

78.  Me;  A  companion  to  "She. 

79.  Missing  Will,  The.    Conway. 

80.  Married  in  Haste.    Dor?.  Thorne. 

81.  Midnight  Marriage.    Holmes. 

82.  Macon     Moore,      the     Southern 

Detective. 

83.  Modern  Circe,  A.  "Tue  Duchess." 

84.  Mrs.  Rasher's  Curtain  Lectures. 

85.  Not  Forsaken.    Giberne. 

86.  Nellie, the  Clockmaker's  Daughter 

87.  Nancv  Hartshorn  at  Chautauqua. 

88.  Ned  Bachman,  the  New  Orleani 

Detective. 

89.  Ogilvie's  Popular  Recitations. 

90.  Only  a  "VVoman's  Heart.    Young. 

91.  One  against  Many.    Dora  Thorue. 

92.  Ostler  Joe  and  other  Recitations. 

93.  One  Thousand  Popular  Quotations 

94.  Phil  Scott,  the  Detective. 

95.  Pomfret  Mystery,  The 

96.  People's  Etiquette  Book.  The. 

97.  People's  Cook  Book.  The. 

98.  Paradise  Almost  Lost.    Shaw. 

99.  Perdita.     Ella  Wheeler  Wilcox. 

100.  Repented  at  Leisure. 

101.  Slings  and  Arrows.    Conway. 

102.  Story  of  a  Sculptor.    Conway. 

103.  Secrets  of  Success.    Donovan. 

104.  "She."     Haggard. 

105.  Sunshine  and  Roses. 

106.  Seven  Days  in  a  Pullman  Car. 

107.  Sheer  Off.     A.  L.  O.  E. 

108.  Sketches  from  "Texas  Sittings." 

109.  Shadowed  by  a  Detective. 

110.  Ten  Days  with  D.  L.  Moody. 

111.  Tale  of  Three  Lions,  A.    Haggard. 

112.  Thorns  and  Orange  Blossoms. 

113.  Two  Thousand  Funny  Things. 

114.  Twelve  Complete  Stories. 

115.  Three    Thousand   Things    Worth 

Knowing.  [Reading-. 

116.  Two    Hundred    Recitations    a»1 

117.  Vice  Versa.     Anstey. 

118.  Witch's  Head,  The.    Haggard. 

119.  Wedding  Ring,  The.    Talmage. 

120.  Wife's  Honor,  A.    Young. 

121.  Woman's  Vengeance,  A.  Holmel 

122.  WToman  Against  Woman.        " 

123.  Wedded  and  Parted. 

124.  Wife  in  Name  Only. 

125.  Woman's  Temptation,  A. 

Publisher  f 
Wabash  Avenue,  Chicago* 


THE  FAVORITJE  EDITION— Continued. 

1*4.  WIFE  IN  NAME  ONLY By  "Author  of  Dora  Thome." 

1^5.  WOMAN'S  TEMPTATION,  A By  "Author  of  Dora  Thome." 

126.  WOMAN:  HER  POWER  AND  PRIVILEGES By  Rev.  T.  DeWitt  Talmage. 

127.  NATURAL  LAW  IN  THE  SPIRITUAL  WORLD.. By  Prof.  II.  Drummond. 

128.  DAVID  COPPERFIELD.    Vol.1 By  Charles  Dickens. 

129   DAVID  COPPERFIELD     Vol.  2 By  Charles  Dickens. 

130.  MONA'S  CHOICE By  Mrs.  Alexander. 

131.  CELL  13 By  Edwin  H.  Trafton. 

132.  A  LIFE  INTEREST By  Mrs.  Alexander. 

133.  FOR  HIS  BROTHER'S  SAKS. By  a  Popular  Author. 

134.  A  WOMAN'S  FACE ,.. By  Florence  Warden. 

133.  A  YOUNG  VAGABOND ,.., By  Z.  R.  Bennett. 

136.  MR.  MEESON'S  WILL By  H.  Rider  Haggard. 

13?.  THE  LAMPLIGHTER , By  Maria  S.  Cummins. 

138.  UNDER-CURRENTS By  "The  Duchess." 

139.  MISS  BRETHERTON By  Author  of  "  Robert  Elsmere." 

140.  THE  WORLD  OF  CANT A  Companion  Book  to  ' ' Robert  Elsmere." 

141.  DOCTOR  GLENNIE'S  DAUGHTER By  B.  L.  Farieon. 

142.  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS  AT  RUGBY By  Thomas  Hughes. 

143.  THE  MYSTERIOUS. ISLAND By  Jules  Verne 

144.  GRIMM'S  FAIRY  TALES. 

145.  TOUR  OF  THE  WORLD  IN  80  DAYS By  Jules  Verne. 

146.  20,000  LEAGUES  UNDER  THE  SEA By  Jules  Verne. 

147.  GULLIVER'S  TRAVELS By  Dean  Swift. 

148.  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS,  Illustrated ByBunyan. 

149.  THE  SWISS  FAMILY  ROBINSON. 

150.  ROBINSON  CRUSOE By  Daniel  Defoe . 

151.  AESOP'S  FABLES,  100  Illustrations. 

152.  HANS  ANDERSEN'S  FAIRY  TALES.     150  Illustrations. 

153.  THE  ARABIAN  NIGHTS'  ENTERTAINMENTS. 

154.  THROWN  ON  THE  WORLD By  "  Author  of  Dora  Thorne." 

155.  TWO  FAIR  WOMEN By  "Author  of  Dora  Thorne." 

156.  A  HEART'S  IDOL By  "Author  of  Dora  Thorne." 

157.  THE  DUKE'S  SECRET By  "Author  of  Dora  Thorne." 

158.  ONE  HUNDRED  PRIZE  DINNERS:  How  to  Provide  a   Dinner  for  Four 

159.  ADVENTURES  OF  MISS  VOLNEY By  Ella  Wheeler  Wilcoi. 

160.  A  CLOSE  CALL By  J.  L.  Berry. 

161.  A  DOUBLE  LOVE By  Olive  P.  Fairchild. 

162.  MYSTERY  OF  A  HANSOM  CAB by  Fergus  W.  Hume. 

163.  PLAYING  WITH  FIRE By  Gay  Parker. 

164.  MR.  PERKINS  OF  NEW  JERSEY By  Gay  Parker. 

165.  MADAME  MIDAS By  Fergus  W.  Hume. 

166.  A  MILLIONAIRE'S  FOLLY By  "Le  Jemlys." 

167.  THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  BARROW By  James  Mooney. 

168.  FIFTEEN  DETECTIVE  STORIES By  Police  Captains  of  New  York. 

169.  IVANHOE By  Sir  Walter  Scott. 

170.  ROBERT  ELSMERE,  VOL.  1 By  Mrs.  Humphry  Ward . 

171.  ROBERT  ELSMERE,  VOL.  2 By  Mrs.  Humphry  Ward. 

172.  THE  STORY  OF  AN  AFRICAN  FARM By  Ralph  Iron . 

173.  POEMS By  "The  Long  Island  Farmer  Poet." 

174.  FROM  FARM  BOY  TO  SENATOR By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr. 

175.  CLEOPATRA By  H.  Rider  Haggard. 

176.  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND By  Charles  Dickens. 

177.  LAST  DAYS  OF  POMPEII By  Bulwer. 

178  A  CROOKED  PATH By  Mrs.  Alexander. 

179  THADDEUS  OF  WARSAW By  Jane  Porter. 

180  FROM  THE  EARTH  TO  THE  MOON , , , By  Jule*  Vera* 


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